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RAMBLER'S 

RECOLLECTIONS 
&  REFLECTIONS 

-WE  NOD  AND  GIANCE  AND  BUSTLE  BY" 


ALFRED  CAPPEFL 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 


Carey  McWiliiams 


A    RAMBLER'S    RECOLLECTIONS 
AND    REFLECTIONS 


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A  RAMBLER'S 
RECOLLECTIONS 
and  REFLECTIONS 


BY 


ALFRED     CAPPER 


"  We  swim  the  earth  from  pole  io  pole, 
And  nod,  and  glance,  and  bustle  by." 

Matthew  Arnold. 


LONDON  :    GEORGE    ALLEN   &   UNWIN   LTD. 
NEW    YORK:     CHARLES     SCRIBNER'S     SONS 


First  published  October  /y/.i 
Reprinted  November  igi5 


(All  rights  reserved) 


C17AZ 


1    DEDICATE   THIS    BOOK 

TO 

MY    WIFE 

After  a  rambling  life  of  thirty  years  and  more 
I  glide  into  the  harbour  where  I  fain  would  be, 
and  rest  at  last  with  that  dear  companion  to 
whom  all  my  love  and  homage  are  due,  and 
to  whom  this  record  of  my  wanderings  is  most 
affectionately  dedicated. 

ALFRED  CAPPER. 


t>94G19 


PREFACE 

In  my  Preface  I  address  myself  mainly  to  the  pro- 
fessional critic  and  reviewer  and  to  the  Anglo-Indian 
official,  and  I  plead  their  kindly  generosity.  To  the 
critics  I  would  say  that  I  am  an  entertainer  pure  and 
simple,  with  no  habit  of  the  pen  whatever.  I  feel  that 
in  their  presence  I  am  but  as  the  dust  of  the  earth 
(only,  however,  in  reference  to  their  own  special  line 
of  life).  I  am  like  an  amateur  sitting  down  to 
play  my  first  game  of  chess  with  Lasker  or  Black- 
burne  or  starting  out  to  box  with  Carpentier  or  Jack 
Johnson.  Remember,  what  is  sport  to  you  is  death  to 
me  ;  you  know  the  rules  of  the  game — I  don't  ;  so  as 
you  are  strong  be  merciful  to  my  humble  efforts. 

And  to  the  Anglo-Indian,  who  resents,  and  very 
rightly  resents,  the  impertinent  criticisms  of  the  average 
globe-trotter  and  the  hasty  generalizations  of  the  casual 
six-weeks'  visitor  to  the  land  in  which  he  has  perhaps 
laboured  with  knowledge  and  discrimination  and  self- 
sacrifice  for  thirty  or  forty  years,  and  upon  which, 
nevertheless,  he  would  hesitate  to  express  a  final  or 
definite  opinion,  I  would  say  I  have  only  told  those 
things   of   which   I   myself   had   actual'   experience.       I 


4  PREFACE 

have  tried  to  write  as  simply  as  I  know  how,  and  I 
have  only  recorded  the  most  trivial  impressions,  and 
to  the  kindly  judgment  of  my  readers  I  venture  fear- 
lessly to   commend  my   little  book. 

ALFRED    CAPPER. 

15  Egerton  Gardens, 
London,  S.W. 

September,   1915. 


CONTENTS 


PREFACE 

CHAPTER 

I.  PURELY    PERSONAL  .... 

n.  MEMORIES   OF   MY    EARLY   DAYS 

in.  BASIL   WILBERFORCE — THE    FRIEND   OF   MY   YOUTH 

IV.  MY   FIRST   LONDON   APPEARANCE 

V.  ROYAL   MEMORIES  .... 

VI.  WHAT    IS   THE    OCCULT? 

VII,  CASSOCK   AND   COMEDY 

VIII.      TWO     UNCONVENTIONAL    PERSONALITIES    (tHE     VICAR 
OF   GORLESTON   AND    MRS.    PANKHURST)       . 

IX.  MY   VISIT   TO    PARIS         .... 

X.  A   STUDY   IN    AUDIENCES 

XI.  AN   ACTOR   AND — ANOTHER   ACTOR 

XII,  TWO    MEN   AND   A   WOMAN 

XIII.  SWITZERLAND   AND   THE    RIVIERA 

XIV.  THE   SOLDIERS'    BISHOP 

XV.  HOW   I    BROKE    UP   A   POLITICAL   MEETING 

XVI.  A    GLIMPSE    OF     DR.     JOSEPH     PARKER     AND     FATHER 
BERNARD  VAUGHAN 


PAGE 

3 

9 

17 

26 

37 
48 

64 

76 

93 

106 

121 

139 
152 
163 
171 

185 
197 


6  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVII.      MY   INDIAN  TOUR:   FIRST  AND  GENERAL  IMPRESSIONS  215 

XVIII.     MY  INDIAN  TOUR — {continued)             .             .             .  236 

XIX.     MY  INDIAN  TOUR — {continued)             .             .             .  247 

XX.     MY  INDIAN  TOUR — {continued)             .             .             .  256 

XXI.     MY  INDIAN  TOUR — (continued):  the  MALAY  STATES: 

A   MEMORY   OF   KUALA   LUMPUR        .                 .                 .  265 

XXII.      A    DAY   WITH    THE    CINEMATOGRAPH    .                 .                 .  278 

XXIII.      ODDS   AND    ENDS             .....  286 

XXIV.      AND    LAST           ......  309 

INDEX                  .                 .                 .                 .                 .                 •  323 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


ALFRED   CAPPER 


A    HANDI-CAPPER   AT   A   ROYAL    HUNT 


Frontispiece 

FACING   PAGE 

•       53 


THOUGHT-READING   EXTRAORDINARY 


"the  soldiers'  bishop" 


129 
177 


A  Rambler's  Recollections 
and  Reflections 

CHAPTER    I 

PURELY   PERSONAL 

In  my  humble  opinion,  it  is  the  point  of  view  that 
gives  the  main  interest  to  human  life,  and  the  more 
that  point  of  view  can  be  changed  the  deeper  and  the 
more  varied  is  the  interest.  In  certain  occupations  and 
professions  the  angle  of  vision  is  somewhat  restricted 
and  limited  in  its  survey  of  the  world  ;  in  others  it 
resembles  the  kaleidoscope,  which  by  a  turn  of  the 
hand  displays  its  prismatic  hues  glittering  in  a  medley 
of  charm  and  colour.  It  was  as  much  for  that  reason 
as  for  any  other  that,  abandoning  the  somewhat  prosaic 
commercial  career  that  my  dear  parents  had  mapped 
out  for  me,  I  took  up  the  very  novel,  stimulating,  and 
interesting  profession — if  I  may  so  describe  it — of  a 
thought -reader.  My  life  in  that  career  has  been  one 
long  sequence  of  events  coloured  by  everything  that 
lends  variety  and  charm  to  life^  coupled  with  real  intel- 
lectual pleasure,  that  could  possibly  be  conceived.  This 
must  be  my  excuse  for  the  perpetration  of  these 
reminiscences.  In  some  ways  it  goes  a  little  against 
the  grain  of  my  natural  man  ;  for  though  I  have  been 
a  public  entertainer  for  thirty  years,  and  though  I 
sincerely  love  my  work  and  am  enthusiastic  regarding 
its   possibilities   and  potentialities,   and   though  when   I 


lo  PURELY    PERSONAL 

am  actually  on  the  platform  itself  I  throw  myself  heart 
and  soul  into  my  work,  yet  off  the  platform,  as  is 
well  known  to  all  my  intimates,  I  absolutely  detest 
talking  about  myself  and  my  doings.  For  this  reason 
partly,  and  partly  from  the  very  nature  of  my  work, 
I  have  never  thrust  myself  prominently  before  the  public, 
who,  therefore,  are  quite  ignorant  of  those  hidden 
elements,  those  arcana,  if  I  may  so  venture  to  describe 
them,  that  really  go  to  the  formation  of  all  that  is 
most  profound  and  most  of  interest  to  me  myself  in 
my  self-elected  calling. 

My  actual  work  is  of  so  intimate  a  nature,  it  is 
so  much  part  of  my  audience,  that  its  very  limita- 
tions have  prevented  my  appearance  in  any  great 
theatre,  and  therefore  any  attempt  on  my  part  to  shine 
as  a  "  star  "  would  not  only  be  out  of  place,  but  it  would 
actually  militate  against  my  professional  success  ; 
herein,  as  in  many  other  respects,  it  would  be  impos- 
sible for  me  to  appear  as  a  short  turn  at  a  variety 
entertainment,  for  hitherto  I  have  practically  always 
appeared  as  the  only  performer  at  my  own  entertain- 
ments. Nevertheless,  my  performances  have  secured 
me  the  complete  and  unanimous  applause  of  my  varied 
audiences  throughout  the  world  and  the  sincere  and  con- 
sistent praise  and  approval  of  the  Press.  But  its  chief 
interest  to  me  personally  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  has 
brought  me  into  intimate  personal  contact  with  so  many 
interesting  people  that,  as  I  have  already  hinted,  my 
whole  life  has  become  tinged  with  the  experiences  that, 
quite  unsought  and  quite  as  separate  issues,  have  forced 
themselves  upon  me,  whetheT  I  would  or  no.  And  not 
only  is  this  natural  and  inevitable,  but  the  wonder  would 
be  if  they  had  not  done  so,  when  I  reflect  upon  the 
extraordinary  variety  of  experiences  that  have  befallen 
me  during  the  last  thirty  years. 


PURELY    PERSONAL  ii 

In  these  recollections  I  shall  tell  my  readers  of  my 
experiences  with  audiences  in  various  parts  of  the  world 
and  amongst  every  class  of  the  community,  for  I  can 
truly  say  that  I  have  touched  the  body  politic  at  more 
points  than  almost  any  other  person  would  find  it 
possible  to  do.  I  have  been  brought  into  personal  con- 
tact with  kings  and  queens,  princes  and  princesses, 
prime  ministers,  peasants  and  publicans,  statesmen, 
novelists,  clergymen  by  the  hundreds,  doctors,  lawyers, 
actors  and  actresses,  burglars,  murderers  even,  lunatics, 
soldiers,  sailors,  and  men  of  every  colour,  creed,  and 
career.  At  the  same  time,  there  are  not  more  than 
three  or  four  chapters  dealing  with  thought-reading — 
a  subject  which  would  not  interest  many  people  at  all. 
These  recollections  are  more  social  than  anything  else, 
and  might  have  been  written  by  any  one  who  has 
travelled  much  or  gone  about  in  London  as  I  have 
done  for  the  last  thirty  years  or  so. 

It  may  well  be  imagined,  therefore,  that  up  to  the 
present  moment  my  engagements  have  been  so  numerous 
and  so  pressing  that  I  have  had  no  time,  even  had  I  had 
the  inclination,  to  attend  to  any  other  business,  much 
less  deliberately  to  sit  down  with  the  sole  intention  of 
inflicting  my  own  humble  personality  and  all  my  trivial 
life  and  misfortunes  upon  an  unsuspecting  and  un- 
offending public.  But  the  war,  which  as  a  crucible 
is  fusing  and  transfusing  all  human  affairs,  brings  me 
not  only  unsought  and  undesired  leisure,  but  it  forces 
upon  me  the  reflection  that  in  the  gamut  of  life  there 
are  many  hitherto  unsounded  chords,  and  it  brings  to 
me  the  realization  that  in  the  exploitation  of  many 
emotions  the  only  real  vital  interest  in  humanity  and 
its  issues  is  to  be  found. 

From  the  point  of  view  from  which  some  of  my 
friends  regard  my  career,  it  would  appear  that  my  life 


12  PURELY    PERSONAL 

has  so  far  been  a  bed  of  roses  ;  yet  such  has  not  been 
altogether  the  case.  I  have  had  my  ups  and  downs 
just  as  alt  other  workers  have  had  ;  but  in  this  book 
I  shall,  Hke  the  dial  in  an  old  Elizabethan  garden, 
record  only  the  sunny  hours.  For,  despite  the 
jeremiads  and  forebodings  of  my  own  relations,  who 
I  may  add  were  of  Quaker  origin,  with  strong  leanings 
in  the  direction  of  Puritanism,  and  who  foretold  nothing 
but  trouble  and  disaster  in  my  choice  of  a  profession, 
I  have  nevertheless  experienced  a  vast  amount  of  hap- 
piness and  pleasure  in  the  transaction  of  duties  which, 
in  themselves,  are  as  interesting  as  they  are  abso- 
lutely novel  and  suggestive.  I  have  experienced  nothing 
of  the  ill-health  that  they  confidently  declared  would 
be  my  unhappy  lot,  nor  do  I  appear  so  far  to  be 
qualifying  for  the  lunatic  asylum,  in  which  they 
were  persuaded  my  brain-straining  exertions  would 
eventually   land  me. 

I  well  remember  one  dear  old  aunt  assuring  me  it 
would  either  result  in  my  spending  all  my  substance, 
quite  ineffectually,  upon  doctors  and  physicians,  or  else 
that  I  should  become  an  old  man  long  before  my  time. 
On  the  contrary,  though  I  have  long  passed  my  fiftieth 
birthday,  I  have  never  had  a  day's  illness  ;  whilst 
regarding  her  gloomy  prediction  as  to  my  premature 
antiquity,  the  following  little  story  will  prove  how  abso- 
lutely and  ridiculously  unfounded  her  fears  on  my  behalf 
really  were. 

A  few  months  ago  I  was  giving  an  entertainment  m 
Switzerland  on  behalf  of  a  well-known  charity,  and 
after  it  was  all  over  a  dear  old  lady  came  up  to  me 
and  said,  "  Oh,  Mr,  Capper,  I  am  so  delighted  to  make 
your  acquaintance.  I  well  remember  seeing  your  father 
give  an  exactly  similar  entertainment  to  yours  five-and- 
twenty    years    ago,    and    I    have   never    knoAvn    a    case 


PURELY    PERSONAL  13 

where  a  son  has  so  marvellously  inherited  his  father's 
talent,  down  to  the  most  minor  details." 

I  was  delighted  and  highly  amused  at  the  idea  of 
my  being  taken  for  my  own  father,  but  I  couldn't 
help  thinking  how  startled  and  indignant  that  same 
father  would  have  been  had  he  heard  himself  accused 
of  being  a  public  thought-reader  and  entertainer.  But 
my  experience  was  perhaps  a  happier  one,  and  certainly 
it  was  a  more  complimentary  one  to  me  personally 
than  an  incident  that  befell  my  friend  Mr.  X.,  who 
had  just  delivered  his  well-known  lecture  on  "  People 
I  have  Met." 

After  the  lecture  a  very  old  gentleman  came  up 
to  him  and  said,  "  Mr.  X.,  I  have  enjoyed  your 
lecture  very  much  indeed,  more  especially  as  I  seem 
to  have  met  most  of  the  people  you  spoke  of.  I 
suppose  we  must  be  about  the  same  age." 

"  Well,"  rephed  the  extremely  startled  X.,  "  I  don't 
know,  sir.      May  I   ask  you  how  old  you  are?  " 

"  I  am  in  my  eightieth  year  !  "  was  the  reply. 

"  Oh  dear  !  "  groaned  poor  X.  "  I  am  only  fifty- 
five  1  " 

And  now  as  to  my  actual  work.  People  frequently 
come  up  to  me  after  an  entertainment  and  ask  me 
anxiously  '*  how  it  is  done."  But  I  have  to  confess 
frankly  that  after  all  these  years  of  experience  I  am 
as  much  in  the  dark  as  to  the  "  how  "  and  the  "  why  " 
and  the  "  wherefore  "  as  they  are  themselves,  and  I 
am  still  more  unable  to  give  any  reason  concerning  this 
peculiar  gift  of  thought-reading.  There  are  so  many 
convolutions  and  involutions  and  revolutions  in  the 
human  brain,  of  none  of  which  I  possess  the  slightest 
knowledge,  either  scientific  or  physical  or  psychic,  that 
it  is  impossible  for  me  to  assign  a  reason  for  my 
peculiar  faculty.    Like  Topsy,  I  can  only  say,  "  I  'spects 


14  PURELY    PERSONAL 

I  grow'd."  I  grow'd  up  like  that,  and  that  is  all  there 
is  to  it.  All  that  I  know  is  that  I  have  the  power 
of  so  adapting  or  subjecting  my  mind  to  the  wills 
of  other  people  that  it  becomes  as  a  highly  sensitized 
photographic  plate,  recording  every  voHtion  of  the  other 
person's  will  in  a  perfectly  mysterious  manner.  I  do 
not  believe,  however,  that  there  is  anything  abnormal 
or  spiritualistic  in  this  power  which  I  possess,  for,  of 
all  people,  I  am  the  most  normal  person  you  could 
meet.  I  beUeve  myself  it  must  be  the  result  of  some 
perfectly  simple  law  of  nature,  which  I  have  hit  upon 
quite  accidentally,  but  which  as  yet  remains  in  obscurity, 
although  the  advance  we  have  undoubtedly  made  in 
psychological  research  may  one  day  possibly  bring  it  out 
in  the  clear  light  of  an  established  science.  I  emphasize 
this  explanation  as  much  as  possible,  for  I  think  it  is  a 
somewhat  unfortunate  thing  that  the  employment  of  such 
a  peculiar  mental  gift  as  mine  undoubtedly  is  should  be 
associated  in  the  vulgar  mind  with  the  ordinary  idea 
of  spiritualistic  seances  and  the  dangerous  pursuits  and 
adventures  of  the  quack  spiritualistic  professor  from 
San  Francisco  or  Chicago.  I  have  always  been  most 
careful  to  dissociate  my  thought-reading  from  anything 
bearing  the  slightest  resemblance  to  the  uncanny  or 
the  occult,  for  much  of  which,  truth  to  tell,  I  have  an 
absolute  loathing  and  horror. 

It  is  a  strange  fact  that  whereas  many  people  have 
expressed  varied  opinions  upon  my  performances,  no 
one  opinion  has  ever  harmonized  with  another  and  no 
medical  man  or  psychologist  has  ever  been  able  to 
tender  a  satisfactory  explanation  of  what  must  remain, 
for  the  present  at  all  events^  a  mysterious  phenomenon 
of  the  brain. 

A  much  more  practical  and  a  much  more  easily 
answered    question    that    is    frequently    put    to    me    by 


PURELY    PERSONAL  15 

members    of   my   audience   and    by   my   own    personal 
friends   is  : 

"  Well,  it's  all  very  interesting,  this  thought-reading 
of  yours,  but  what's  the  good  of  it?  " 

Well,  obviously  I  might  reply,  for  one  thing,  it  has 
brought  me  in  a  very  good  living  for  thirty  years,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  fact  that  it  has  enabled  me  to  help 
forward  public  charities  to  an  extent  that  would  astonish 
my  readers.  In  addition  to  that  it  has  enabled  me,  as 
I  hinted  at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter,  to  lead  a 
very  pleasant  and  a  far  more  eventful  life  than  has 
fallen  to  the  lot  of  most  people,  far  more  so  than  I 
could  have  hoped  for  had  I  followed  the  somewhat 
prosaic,  albeit  very  prosperous,  business  for  which  1 
was  intended  by  my  father  years  ago  and  in  which  for 
a  few  short  years  I  actually  served  as  one  of  my 
father's  clerks,  he  being  the  head  of  the  firm.  Whilst 
actually  engaged  in  this  business  I  used  to  give  my 
services  as  an  unpaid  amateur  thought -reader  to  various 
charities  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Southampton,  where 
my  father's  business  was  located.  A  friend  of  mine, 
walking  home  with  me  one  night  after  one  of  these 
"  shows  "  of  mine,  suddenly  said  to  me,  "  I  say, 
old  chap,  you  might  charge  a  fee  for  these  entertain- 
ments of  yours.  I  have  often  seen  professional 
affairs  that  weren't  half  as  good  as  yours." 

The  advice  was  so  good  and  so  much  in  harmony  with 
my  own  ideas  on  the  subject,  that  I  forthwith  drew  up  a 
careful  and  elaborate  syllabus  of  my  entertainment  and 
sent  it  round  by  the  hundred  to  the  innumerable  literary, 
scientific,  and  mechanic  institutes  with  which  the  whole 
country  was  in  those  days  so  thickly  dotted.  As  a 
result  I  got  a  batch  of  engagements  down  in  the  West 
Country,  and  for  a  whole  week  I  gave  my  first  paid 
entertainments  in  institutes  and  Y.M.C.A.   buildings  in 


1 6  PURELY    PERSONAL 

Penzance,  Plymouth,  Truro,  Redruth,  and  Kingsbridge, 
returning  to  Southampton  on  the  Saturday  with  as  much 
money  in  fees  in  my  pocket  as  I  would  have  made 
in  a  whole  year  by  clerking — a  pursuit,  by  the  by, 
which  I  detested  and  for  which  I  had  not  the  slightest 
natural  or  acquired  aptitude.  In  addition  to  the  hand- 
some fees,  I  may  add,  I  carried  away  sincere  expres- 
sions of  hope,  on  the  part  of  my  audiences  and  the 
secretaries  of  the  various  institutes,  that  I  would  return 
to  them  in  the  not  distant  future. 

It  was  in  this  manner  that  I  actually  became  a  pro- 
fessional thought-reader  before  I  was  twenty  years  of 
age. 


CHAPTER    II 

MEMORIES   OF   MY   EARLY   DAYS 

In  a  book  of  reminiscences  of  this  description  a  few 
biographical  details  are  not  only  not  out  of  place,  but 
they  are  actually  helpful  to  the  whole  scheme  I  have 
in  view. 

I  was  born,  therefore,  some  fifty  years  ago  in  the 
typical  old  English  town  of  Southampton,  where  my 
father  was  one  of  the  leading  timber  merchants.  I 
am  of  Quaker  lineage  and  I  am  proud  of  my  origin,  for, 
to  my  possibly  and  naturally  prejudiced  way  of  thinking, 
the  Quakers  contain  some  of  the  very  best  stock  and 
blood  of  the  whole  English  race  ;  and  I  realize  that 
it  is  to  my  ancestors  and  forbears  amongst  the  Back- 
houses, Peases,  and  Frys  of  Darlington,  which  brings 
me  into  misty  but  deeply  interesting  relationship  with 
the  famous  Elizabeth  Fry,  that  my  family  and  I  owe 
all  that  is  best  and  most  typically  English  in  my  blood. 
Curiously  enough,  in  the  very  advanced  High  Anglican 
Church  of  St.  Paul's,  Knightsbridge,  there  is  a  tablet 
to  the  memory  of  Katherine,  vddow  of  John  Backhouse, 
of  Darlington,  who  died  in  1853.  This  must  be  a 
celebrated  great-aunt  of  mine,  of  whom  my  dear  old 
father  was  so'  proud.  How  this  deeply  religious 
woman,  of  fixed  and  rigorous  Quaker  ideas,  ever 
found  a  foothold  in  a  Church  whose  doctrines  and 
whole  teaching  are  so  very  contrary  to  all  she 
had  ever  held  herself,  passes  my  comprehension, 
but  the  fact  remains  that  there  is  a  curious  and  inex- 

3  '7 


1 8         MEMORIES    OF    MY    EARLY    DAYS 

plicable  connection  between  the  deep  spiritualism  of 
certain  of  the  sects  and  the  state  ceremonial  of 
Catholicism.  Many  of  our  leading  High  Anglican  and 
Roman  clergy  come  from  Quaker  and  Presbyterian 
origin,  and  very  few  of  them  ever  regret  it.  Indeed, 
I  can  well  remember  dear  old  Cardinal  Manning  telling 
me  once  that  he  owed  more  than  he  could  express  to 
the  evangelical  truths  and  traditions  he  had  gathered 
at  his  mother's  knee.  In  very  truth  there  is  a  sobriety, 
a  dignity,  a  stateliness  encircling  those  old  Quakers 
which  they  not  only  never  lost  themselves,  but  which, 
in  some  mystic  and  intangible  manner,  has  descended 
even  to  their  descendants  of  this  day.  The  Quakers 
embalmed  much  that  was  sweetest  and  purest  in  the 
life  of  old  England,  and  in  consequence  its  fragrance 
has  not  yet  altogether  passed  from  our  midst. 

On  my  mother's  side  there  was  perhaps  a  lighter  and 
more  modern  touch  than  on  the  paternal  side  of  the 
house,  and  I  have  always  been  highly  delighted  with 
the  story  of  my  wonderful  grandmother  making  a 
runaway  marriage,  when  she  was  a  widow  at  the  age 
of  seventy-three,  with  Mr.  Jacob  Owen,  of  Merrion 
Square,  Dublin,  himself  aged  seventy-five  years,  on 
which  festive  and  memorable  occasion  they  obtained 
the  services  of  an  equally  adventurous  and  high-spirited 
clergyman,  who,  at  the  age  of  eighty-three,  united  them 
in  the  bond  of  holy  matrimony,  the  clerk  who  signed 
the  register  verging  on  ninety  years  of  age.  It  is 
only  quite  recently  that  I  obtained  these  fascinating 
details  from  a  legal  member  of  the  Owen  family.  My 
maternal  grandfather  commanded  a  well-known  cavalry 
regiment,  and  one  of  my  second  cousins,  General 
Capper,  the  famous  war  balloonist,  and  who  till  recently 
was  Commandant  at  Sandhurst,  and  his  brother.  General 
Thompson  Capper,  who  is  in  command  of  the  Eighth 


MEMORIES    OF    MY    EARLY    DAYS  19 

Division  of  our  army  at  the  Front,  and  my  brother, 
Major  George  Capper,  still  maintain  the  military 
traditions  of  our  family.  It  will  therefore  be  seen,  from 
what  I  have  already  written,  that  my  own  lapse — shall  I 
call  it? — into  the  entertaining  line  constitutes  a  very  re- 
markable departure  from  old  traditions  and  associations. 

No  home-life  ever  surpassed  my  own  in  sheer  simple 
happiness  ;  no  parents  ever  lavished  so  much  tender 
care  and  wise  affection  on  their  children  as  did  my 
beloved  father  and  mother  on  us.  Parents  do  not 
appear  to  me  to  realize  the  duties  and  the  sacred,  over- 
whelming responsibility  of  parentage  as  they  did  in 
my  day.  My  father  was  as  a  brother  to  me,  and  yet 
always  a  father  ;  whilst  of  my  mother^  I  feel  I  cannot, 
indeed  I  dare  not,  say  all  I  would  wish  to  say.  Suffice 
it  for  the  present  for  me  to  place  on  record  that  their 
memories  are  the  most  sacred  and  the  most  precious 
possession  that  is  mine  on  earth. 

Between  the  years  of  nine  and  twelve  I  was  a  weekly 
boarder  at  a  small  dame's  school,  where  I  was  a  school- 
fellow of  Sir  John  Jellicoe  ;  and  one  of  the  most  vivid, 
as  it  is  assuredly  one  of  the  most  painful,  memories 
of  my  life  is  the  awful  fight  I  had  with  the  future 
Admiral,  who  had  accused  me  of  unfairly  possessing 
myself  of  certain  very  favourite  marbles.  From  this 
fight  I  was  rescued  in  the  very  nick  of  time — for  he 
was  as  unconquerable  a  hero  then  as  Von  Tirpitz  is 
finding  out  he  is  to-day — by  the  interposition  of  his 
brother,  the  new  Vicar  of  Alresford,  who  was  also  one 
of  my  schoolfellows  in  those  sunny  far-off  days,  and 
dear  old  Miss  Shapcott,  our  mistress  ;  and  I  remember 
well  that  Jack  Jellicoe  and  I  had  to  stand  back-to -back 
in  opposite  corners  of  the  schoolroom,  with  strict  in- 
junctions not  to  turn  our  heads  towards  one  another. 
What  a  battle  that  was,  and  how  heavy  the  hands,  even 


20         MEMORIES    OF    MY    EARLY    DAYS 

at  that  tender  age,  and  how  rapid  the  blows  of  that 
redoubtable  Admiral  that  was  to  be  !  I  may  add  that 
in  later  life  one  of  my  most  valued  friendships  was 
with  his  uncle,  Charles  Jellicoe,  a  well-known  and  much- 
respected  resident  of  Southampton.  The  remaining 
four  years  of  my  education  were  spent  at  another 
school  in  Southampton,  the  vogue  for  the  big  Public 
Schools  not  being  nearly  so  universal  as  it  is  to-day. 
In  this  manner  all  my  young  days  were  spent 
in  my  native  town  of  Southampton,  and  many 
and  many  a  pleasant  picnic  do  I  remember  in 
the  New  Forest.  One  day,  when  about  fourteen 
years  old,  I  made  the  acquaintance  at  Rufus  Stone 
of  a  man  named  Peckham.  He  was  a  loafer  in  the 
highest  and  most  artistic  sense  of  the  word  ;  but  he  and 
I  became  great  friends,  and  he  informed  me  that  he 
could  sell  me  magpies,  jackdaws,  and  jays  at  sixpence, 
threepence,  and  twopence  each.  This  was  in  the  early 
spring,  and  the  birds  would  be  hatched  and  ready 
for  sale  in  a  few  weeks'  time.  I  immediately  inserted 
an  advertisement  in  the  Exchange  and  Mart  :  "  For 
sale,  shortly,  a  limited  quantity  of  magpies,  jackdaws, 
and  jays.  Magpies  and  jays  3s.  6d.  each  ;  jackdaws 
2s.  6d.  Orders  taken  now.  Address,  Alfred  Capper," 
etc.  Orders  poured  in  from  all  parts  of  the  United 
Kingdom,  and  I  booked  at  least  one  hundred  birds  ; 
and  visions  of  a  small  fortune  floated  before  my  gaze, 
as  the  profit  really  would  be  enormous  for  a  boy  of 
fourteen,  or,  indeed,  so  far  as  this  is  concerned,  for 
a  person  of  any  age.  I  then  sent  my  order  to  Peckham, 
with  an  urgent  request  to  him  to  hurry  up  with  the  birds 
as  soon  as  possible.  A  few  weeks  elapsed,  and  one 
morning  at  5  a.m. — I  remember  it  well — there  was  a 
tremendous  peal  at  our  front-door  bell,  which  startled 
the  whole   house.      It   was   Peckham,   with   a   sack   full 


MEMORIES    OF    MY    EARLY    DAYS         21 

of  birds,  including  not  only  the  ordered  fowl,  but  also 
half  a  dozen  young  hawks.  None  of  these  birds  could 
feed  themselves,  and  they  were  none  the  better  for 
their  somewhat  shaky  progress  along  the  eight-mile 
road,  in  the  dead  of  the  night,  that  lies  between 
Southampton  and  the  New  Forest.  I  turned  the  birds 
into  an  aviary  outside  our  kitchen  door.  They  wanted 
feeding  every  hour,  and  the  boot-boy  and  the  gardener 
were  busy  all  day  supplying  their  requirements  ;  the 
noise  they  made  was  so  terrific  that  all  our  servants 
gave  notice,  but  the  timely  death  of  at  least  ninety  of 
the  unfortunate  captives  brought  peace  and  quietness 
to  the  troubled  household. 

When  at  school  I  also  collected  autographs.  I 
wrote  to  nearly  every  celebrity,  enclosing  a  stamped 
addressed  envelope,  and  I  have,  in  consequence,  a  very 
valuable  collection,  including  Tennyson,  Gladstone, 
Ruskin,  Anthony  Trollope,  Millais,  Wilkie  Collins, 
Sothern,  Phelps,  Buckstone,  and  hundreds  of  others. 
Sarah  Bernhardt  was  kind  enough  to  send  me  her 
photo  from  Paris,  duly  signed.  At  fifteen  years  of 
age  I  paid  my  first  visit  to  London,  with  a  very  dear 
Quaker  aunt  who  had  never  been  inside  a  theatre  in  her 
life  ;  but  during  that  week  I  managed  to  take  her  to 
seven  in  the  six  days — of  course,  one  was  a  matinee — 
and  I  shall  never  forget  the  acting  of  Henry  Irving, 
Charles  Wyndham,  Charles  Mathews,  Nelly  Farren  (at 
the  Gaiety  Theatre),  and  Joseph  Jefferson,  the  great 
actors  of  that  day.  It  was  on  this  famous  first  visit  to 
London  that  I  met  personally  my  first  celebrity—no 
less  a  man  than  the  great  Victorian  statesman,  John 
Bright.  It  was  on  a  Sunday  morning  at  the  Friends' 
Meeting  House  in  the  City,  to  which  my  aunt  had  taken 
me.  Mr.  Bright  was  an  old  and  valued  friend  of  my 
aunt,  and  I  can  well  remember  the  thrill  I  experienced 


22  MEMORIES    OF    MY    EARLY    DAYS 

when  he  came  up  to  us  as  we  were  leaving  the  service 
and  walking  alongside  us  as  we  paced  our  slow  way  to 
the  West.  I  grieve  to  say  that  I  distinguished  myself, 
as  I  often  do,  by  putting  my  foot  into  it  in  the  most 
horrible  and  appalling  fashion.  The  statesman,  after 
having  exchanged  a  few  words  with  my  aunt,  turned 
to  me  and  said,  "  Well,  young  man,  what  do  you 
think  of  London,  and  what  do  you  like  best  of  all  you 
have  seen  during  the  past  week?  "  To  my  aunt's 
speechless  dismay  and  to  Mr.  Bright's  vast  indigna- 
tion I  replied,  "  Well,  sir,  I  think  I  liked  Nelly  Farren 
best  of  all.     Have  you  seen  her?  " 

To-day  such  a  story  would  have  no  meaning,  but  in 
those  days  the  bare  idea  of  a  theatre  would  have 
horrified  a  man  of  Mr.  Bright's  upbringing  and  strict 
Quaker  ideas.  It  resulted  in  a  sad  coolness  between 
myself  and  my  dear  old  aunt  which  lasted  for  the  rest 
of  my  visit,  but  from  which  she  very  soon  recovered 
when  the  first  horror  of  the  occasion  had  passed  away. 

My  father,  wishing  to  initiate  me  thoroughly  into 
business  habits,  removed  me  from  school  at  the  age  of 
sixteen,  and  I  immediately  commenced  my  mercantile 
career,  office  hours  nine  to  five,  which,  as  I  have 
hinted  in  the  last  chapter,  was  not  altogether  in 
accordance  with  my  ^natural  habit  and  bent  of  mind, 
though  I  must  frankly  acknowledge  that  some  of 
my  happiest  memories  are  of  those  days.  My  father 
employed  a  very  large  staff  of  clerks,  and  many  of 
them  became  my  dear  friends  ;  and  it  is  rather  a  sad 
reflection  to  me  that  there  does  not  appear  to  be 
nowadays  the  same  simple,  friendly,  almost  patriarchal 
relations  existing  between  master  and  employees  as 
existed  between  my  father  and  his  clerks  and  hundreds 
of  workpeople  of  every  description.  My  father  had 
a  partner — a  Mr.  Driver.     It  is  a  rather  interesting  and 


MEMORIES    OF    MY    EARLY    DAYS  23 

remarkable  fact  that  the  sons  of  the  partners  in  this 
timber  business,  who  were  each  intended  to  follow  in 
their  fathers'  footsteps,  should  have  adopted  such  very 
different  professions.  I  became  a  thought-reader  and 
Mr.  Driver's  son  became  the  Rev.  S.  R.  Driver,  D.D., 
Canon  of  Christ  Church,  Oxford,  and  Regius  Pro- 
fessor of  Hebrew  at  the  University,  and  one  of  the  most 
famous  Biblical  critics  of  all  time.  He  was  also  of 
Quaker  descent.  I  often  smile  when  I  recall  the 
gay  and  joyous  lad  he  was,  though  he  was  considerably 
my  senior,  and  mentally  compare  him  with  the  grave 
and  dignified  scholar  he  afterwards  became. 

It  was  through  seeing  the  celebrated  thought-reader 
Irving  Bishop  just  at  this  period  that  I  began  my 
curious  and,  I  may  add,  most  fascinating  career. 
Thought-reading  is,  of  course,  a  gift  which  could  not 
be  explained,  even  if  one  were  offered  the  world's 
treasury.  Doubtless  there  are  hundreds  possessing  the 
same  gift  who  are  still  unconscious  of  it.  It  is  like 
child's-play  to  me,  and  I  may  here  state,  as  I  always 
do  in  public,  that  "  thought-transmission  "  is  a  better 
term  for  it  than   "  thought-reading." 

And  now  for  a  few  details  concerning  the  very  first 
entertainment  I  ever  gave,  and  here  I  may  remark  that 
my  main  idea  was  even  at  that  early  period  the  same  as 
it  is  to-day,  viz.  not  to  harp  too  much  on  one  string — in 
other  words,  I  introduced  as  much  variety  into  my 
entertainment  as  I  could  possibly  contrive  to  do.  On 
this  occasion  I  devoted  part  of  the  evening  to  an  expose 
of  the  famous  Davenport  Brothers  and  others  of  the 
sham  spiritualists  who  were  so  rife  just  at  that  period. 
And  whereas  I  know  there  are  many  highly  intelligent 
people  who  honestly  believe  in  the  genuineness  of 
various  spiritualistic  manifestations,  yet  the  firmest  and 
most  credulous  adherents  to  the  cause,  as  they  term  it, 


24         MEMORIES    OF    MY    EARLY    DAYS 

will,  if  they  are  honest,  frankly  admit  that  chicanery  and 
humbug  have  always  formed  a  great  part  of  the  stock- 
in-trade  of  the  more  unprincipled  exponents  of  this 
curious  creed  of  spiritualism.  (Later  on  I  shall  devote 
a  complete  chapter  to  the  consideration  and  discussion 
of  things  occult.) 

My  entertainment  took  place  in  some  church  school- 
room in  Southampton,  the  entire  proceeds  being  devoted 
to  a  local  charity,  and  the  Rev.  W.  W.  Perrin,  then  a 
curate  in  the  town  and  now  Bishop  of  Willesden,  took 
the  chair  for  me,  the  first  of  many  hundreds  of  clerical 
chairmen  of  all  denominations  with  whom  my  work 
has  brought  me  into  delightful  and  friendly  contact 
during  the  last  thirty  years.  When  I  look  back  on  that 
evening  and  remember  that  I  was  only  eighteen  years 
of  age,  I  can  only  marvel  at  the  sublime  impudence 
and  the  innocent  confidence  of  youth.  My  first  illustra- 
tion in  thought-transmission  was  a  veritable  triumph, 
albeit  at  first  it  threatened  to  be  a  gloomy  and  disastrous 
failure.  The  schoolroom,  which  held  over  four  hundred 
people,  was  crowded  to  the  doors,  and  amongst  the 
throng  was  a  certain  pale  young  curate  who,  rather  in 
a  spirit  of  mischievous  scepticism,  volunteered  to  be  my 
first  subject.  The  illustration  I  attempted  with  him 
was  a  simple  one.  He  had  to  concentrate  his  thoughts 
upon  one  member  of  the  audience,  and  my  business 
was,  blindfolded  as  I  always  am,  to  take  him  as  quickly 
as  I  could  to  the  person  upon  whom  his  thoughts 
were  fixed.  I  started  ofi"  at  once  and  pushed  my  way 
through  the  crowded  room  until  I  arrived  at  the  seat 
of  a  certain  young  lady,  upon  whom  I  laid  my  hand 
amid  the  thunders  of  applause  and  delighted  laughter 
of  the  audience.  The  curate  vigorously  declared  he 
was  not  thinking  of  this  lady  at  all,  but  of  some  one 
else.     "Very  well,"  said  I,  "we'll  try  again."     Which 


MEMORIES    OF    MY    EARLY    DAYS  25 

we  accordingly  did,  with  precisely  the  same  result. 
Again  the  curate  vehemently  denied  that  he  was  think- 
ing of  this  lady,  whilst  the  audience  became  almost 
hysteric  in  its  joyous  laughter  and  amusement,  which, 
I  may  add,  enormously  puzzled  and  confused  me,  as 
of  course  I  could  not  even  guess  at  the  cause  of  their 
merriment.  A  third  time  I  tried,  and  yet  a  third  time 
I  led  him  to  the  selfsame  lady.  By  this  time  my 
audience  broke  all  the  bounds  of  decency  almost,  so 
extravagant  was  their  overwhelming  laughter.  I,  on 
the  contrary,  was  inclined  to  be  vexed  and  disappointed 
at  what  appeared  to  be  a  failure  in  my  first  attempt 
at  thought-reading  in  public.  But  great  was  my  joy 
and  overwhelming  my  pride  and  triumph  next  day  when 
I  was  informed  by  a  friend  that  the  pale  young  curate 
had  actually  proposed  to  and  been  accepted  by  that 
very  young  lady  upon  whom  I  had  felt  assured  his 
thoughts  were  fixed.  That  same  pale  young  curate 
is  now  a  grave  and  dignified  archdeacon,  whom  I 
encountered  only  a  few  months  ago  in  the  Riviera  with 
his  wife — the  selfsame  lady  of  those  delightful  days — 
and  he  indeed  it  was  who  brought  the  incident,  as 
I  have  just  related  it,  vividly  to  my  memory.  From 
this  entertainment  arose  numerous  other  engagements 
right  throughout  Hampshire,  and  I  was  kept  far  busier 
than  I  wished  very  often.  But  it  was  in  this  manner 
that  I  first  met  and  became  acquainted  with  the  man 
who  of  all  others  has  most  influenced  my  whole  life — I 
refer  to  that  most  remarkable  of  men  and  most  excep- 
tionally gifted  of  ecclesiastics  Basil  Wilberforce,  the 
Rector  of  St.  Mary's,  Southampton,  and  now  Arch- 
deacon of  Westminster.  But  I  will  reserve  my  memories 
of  Mr.   Wilberforce  for  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER    III 

BASIL   WILBERFORCE— THE   FRIEND   OF   MY  YOUTH 

Amongst  the  most  interesting  people  I  have  ever  met, 
and  certainly  the  man,  as  I  remarked  in  the  previous 
chapter,  who  has  most  influenced  my  life  during  the 
last  thirty  years,  was,  and  is,  the  sainted  Basil  Wilber- 
force,  now  Archdeacon  of  Westminster,  but  who,  when 
I  first  met  him,  was  Rector  of  St.  Mary's,  Southampton. 
A  more  fascinating  personality  I  cannot  imagine,  or 
one  more  able  to  bend  people  to  his  will  and  to  his 
way  of  thinking.  I  need  scarcely  say  that  when  he  first 
took  up  his  work  in  Southampton  he  absolutely  electri- 
fied the  somewhat  prosaic  and  matter-of-fact  residents  of 
the  famous  southern  port.  For  he  was  utterly  different 
from  every  one  they  had  ever  met,  and  few  peo.ple 
had  ever  ventured  to  picture  to  themselves  a  clergy- 
man so  absolutely  untrammelled  by  convention  or  so 
unhampered  by  ecclesiastical  traditions,  or  one  who 
dared  to  be  so  utterly  his  own  dear  human  self  as  the 
new  Rector  of  St.  Mary's.  For  one  thing,  he  was  that 
very  rare  phenomenon  in  those  days,  a  violent  and  con- 
vinced Radical,  a  piquant  and  suggestive  contrast  to 
his  famous  and  eloquent  father  the  once  Bishop  of 
Oxford  and  Winchester,  the  "  Soapy  Sam  "  of  my  early 
childhood's  days.  But  Basil,  delightful  as  he  always 
was,  could  never  by  the  wildest  flight  of  imagination 
have  been  depicted  as  "  Soapy  "  ;  he  was  far  too 
strenuous  and  too  outspoken,  far  too  independent  and 

36 


BASIL     WILBERFORCE  27 

determined  on  his  own  chosen  course  of  action,  ever  to 
allow  himself  to  approve  of  anything  in  which  he  did 
not  believe  to  the  depths  of  his  inmost  soul.  A  splendid 
fiery  spirit  he,  a  Boanerges  in  the  pulpit,  a  Savonarola 
in  the  slum,  a  St.  Francis  in  the  salon  ;  he  was  an 
absolute  revelation  in  the  way  of  what  an  Anglican 
clergyman  could  be  if  he  had  sufficiently  the  courage 
of  his  convictions  to  dare  the  frowns  of  the 
orthodox  and  the  anathemas  of  his  ecclesiastical 
superiors.  And  with  it  all  he  was  entirely  human 
and  sympathetic  ;  he  knew  the  hearts  of  men  so  well, 
he  was  so  absolutely  in  touch  with  all  classes  and 
conditions.  He  very  soon  became  the  leading  figure 
in  Southampton,  and  he  permeated  every  avenue  of  the 
local  public  life,  flaming  through  the  hidden  ways  as 
might  the  Archangel  Michael  himself  have  done.  His 
sermons  electrified  the  town,  although  very  possibly 
his  methods  and  his  theological  opinions,  or  at  all 
events  his  phrasing  of  those  opinions,  horrified  and 
startled  the  quaint,  old-fashioned  orthodoxy  of  a  pro- 
vincial town  thirty  years  ag'o.  To-day  they  would 
probably  pass  unnoticed  ;  in  those  simpler  and  less 
lettered  years  they  created  nothing  less  than  a  veritable 
sensation. 

It  may  be  imagined,  therefore,  what  I,  a  youth  of 
eighteen,  felt  when  I  first  met  this  wonderful  man.  He 
at  once  became  the  hero  of  my  life  ;  and  could  a  young 
fellow  such  as  I  then  was  have  possibly  chosen  a  finer 
personality  as  my  ideal  of  what  a  man  ought  to  be  ! 
The  way  in  which  we  first  met  was  both  curious  and 
amusing.  The  Deanery — in  which  Canon  Wilberforce 
lived — was  just  outside  our  great  wood  factory,  and 
one  day  my  father  received  a  very  vigorous  letter  from 
the  Canon  vehemently  protesting  against  the  hideous 
nuisance  that  was  inflicted  upon  all  the  inhabitants  of 


28  BASIL    WILBERFORCE 

the  Deanery  by  the  volume  of  thick  smoke  that  poured 
continuously  from  our  chimneys  into  the  Deanery 
garden.  My  father  called  me  to  his  side.  "  Alfred/' 
said  he,  "  for  Heaven's  sake,  go  and  make  our  peace 
with  the  Canon,  and  tell  him  how  sorry,  I  am  this  should 
have  occurred,  and  that  I  will  do  all  I  can  to  remedy 
the  nuisance." 

The  Canon  received  me  courteously  enough  in  his 
study,  but  he  was  very  vigorous  in  his  denunciation  of 
our  smoky  chimney — a  denunciation  which  was  enor- 
mously, but  most  unpleasantly,  emphasized  at  the  very 
moment  of  his  speech  by  a  perfect  cloud  of  smoke  and 
soot  which  blew  in  at  the  open  window  and  literally 
curtained  me  off  from  the  indignant  ecclesiastic.  When 
it  had  blown  aside  and  the  window  had  been  closed, 
I  gave  him  my  father's  message  with  many  heartfelt 
emendations  of  my  own.  Canon  Wilberforce  laughed, 
and  then  asked  me  wherei  I  went  to  church,  "  because," 
said  he,  "  you  are  just  the  man  I  want  to  be  one  of  my 
new  sidesmen."  Like  all  others,  I  fell  a  speedy  victim 
to  his  fascinating  charm,  and  I  became  not  only  his 
sidesman,  but  one  of  the  most  devoted  and  enthusiastic 
of  his  adherents,  which  I  may  add  I  have  remained 
ever  since.  Basil  Wilberforce  in  those  days  was  in 
the  very  prime  of  his  strenuous  existence,  a  slight, 
tallish  figure,  clean-shaven,  with  very  much  about  him 
of  the  famous  Wilberforce  face,  for  both  he  and  his 
brother  Ernest,  then  Bishop  of  Newcastle,  much  re- 
sembled their  distinguished  father  ;  and  who  does  not 
know  the  long  upper  lip  of  the  two  bishops,  father 
and  son? 

I  have  said  the  Canon  was  very  unconventional  and 
often  apparently  unorthodox.  He  always  welcomed  new 
departures  in  the  religious  life  of  the  community  if  he 
were   convinced   that   they   possessed   a   sound   spiritual 


BASIL    WILBERFORCE  29 

basis,  and  he  never  hesitated  to  occupy  Nonconfonnist 
pulpits  whenever  they  were  offered  to  him.  As  he 
was  unable  to  invite  ministers  of  other  forms  of  faith 
to  preach  at  St.  Mary's_,  he  erected  a  huge  marquee 
in  the  Deanery  grounds,  and  this  marquee  became  the 
centre  of  an  Evangelical  Spiritual  Mission  which  abso- 
lutely revolutionized  the  whole  of  our  civic  life,  for 
none  knew  what  was  coming  next,  and  the  feverish 
regard  of  all  classes  of  the  community  was  ever  fixed 
with  speechless  expectancy  upon  the  sayings  and  doings 
of  the  daring  and  unconventional  Canon  and  his  reli- 
gious comrades.  He  was,  for  instance,  an  enthusiastic 
and  whole-hearted  supporter  at  one  moment  of  General 
Booth,  at  the  next  of  Moody  and  Sankey,  and  in  a 
third  moment  he  would  sit  entranced  at  the  feet  of 
Father  Ignatius  or  Mr.  Henry  Varley,  the  famous  and 
very  outspoken  Dissenting  missioner  of  the  'eighties. 
Amongst  other  popular  religious  visitants  of  Mr. 
Wilberforce  at  this  period  were  the  silver-tongued,  elo- 
quent, vehement  C.  H.  Spurgeon,  Lord  Radstock,  and 
a  certain  Count  Bobrinsky,  a  remarkable  Russian  evan- 
gelist. It  didn't  much  matter  who  they  were,  or  what 
their  special  branch  of  the  Christian  Church  might  be, 
suffice  it  that  they  were  deeply  spiritual  men  and 
enthusiastic  concerning  their  cause,  they  were  sure  of 
welcome  and  support  and  the  most  friendly  reception 
at  the   ever-open  doors  of   the   Deanery. 

Canon  Wilberforce  was,  of  course,  one  of  the  earliest 
supporters  of  the  Blue  Ribbon  Movement,  and  I  well 
remember  the  enthusiasm  with  which  he  welcomed  it  in 
Southampton.  Like  most  enthusiastic  people,  he  was 
sadly  liable  to  be  imposed  upon  by  those  desirous  of 
winning  his  regard  or  of  imposing  upon  his  good 
nature.  In  the  case  which  I  am  about  to  relate, 
however,    neither   of   these    reasons    could    possibly    be 


30  BASIL     WILBERFORCE 

said  to  account  for  the  curious  psychological  condition 
of  the  mind  of  the  person  most  concerned.  There 
was  a  certain  highly  respected  tradesman  in  the  town 
at  this  time  who,  for  some  mysterious  reason  of  his 
own,  and  to  the  astonishment  of  those  who  knew  him, 
went  in  hammer  and  tongs  for  the  new  teetotal  move- 
ment. Indeed,  so  enthusiastic  was  he  in  the  matter 
that  he  was  absolutely  the  life  and  soul  of  the  special 
week  of  meetings  which  Canon  Wilberforce  had  in- 
augurated in  the  Great  Circus.  The  week  after  this 
great  Temperance  Mission  I  was  invited  to  the  Deanery 
to  dinner,  and  on  my  way  down  there  I  stepped  into 
the  Royal  Hotel,  a  famous  hostelry  in  Southampton,  the 
proprietor  of  which,  together  with  his  wife,  was  a  great 
friend  of  mine.  As  I  stood  and  talked  with  Mrs. 
Black,  my  eye  was  caught  by  the  huge  posters  of  the 
week  previous  announcing  the  great  Blue  Ribbon 
Mission.  "  Ah,  Mrs.  Black,"  said  I,  "  what  do  you 
think  of  the  Blue  Ribbon?  "  "  Well,  Mr.  Capper," 
she  replied,  "  truth  to  tell,  I  don't  think  much  of  it. 
There  is  no  one  believes  in  temperance  more  than  I 
do,  and  I  hate  drunkards,  but  I  think  that  they  go  to 
intemperate  excess  in  all  they  say  and  preach,  and  as 
for  some  of  their  professors,  why  they  are  nothing 
better  than  hypocrites  and  humbugs.  Now,  Mr.  Capper, 
there's  Mr.  X.,  who  was  the  very  life  and  soul  of 
those  meetings  last  week,  why,  he  was  in  here  this 
morning  and  actually  had  seven  whiskies-and-sodas 
before  midday  ;  and  then  to  go  there  and  preach 
teetotalism,  why,  it's  beyond  a  joke,  let  alone  his  being 
a  deacon  at  the  Congregational  Church  I  " 

Seated  an  hour  later  at  dinner  next  to  Mrs.  Wilber- 
force, she  asked  me  if  I  was  a  teetotaler,  and 
I  replied,  "  No,  I  am  not,  and  if  I  was  I  should  cer- 
tainly  not  wear   a   blue   ribbon."      She   asked  me   why 


BASIL    WILBERFORCE  31 

I  was  so  vehement,  and  I  told  her  the  above  incident, 
and  the  Canon  overhearing  me  waxed  very  indignant. 
He  was  a  hot-tempered  man  though  a  very  loyal  friend. 

"  Capper,"  he  said,  "  you  have  no  right  to  say  such, 
a  thing  unless  you  can  prove  it.  What  was  the  name 
of  this   poor  man?  " 

"  Oh,"  I  said,  "  I  can't  mention  his  name  in  public 
like  this,  and  indeed  I  don't  think  it  would  be  fair." 
On  my  other  side  sat  Mrs.  Eliot  Yorke,  herself  a 
Rothschild  and  a  rigorous  teetotaler.  "  Ah,  Mr. 
Capper,"  said  she,  "  I  am  a  bit  of  a  thought-reader, 
and  I  think  I  can  name  your  friend,"  which  she  did 
the  very  first  guess.  However,  to  make  a  long  story 
short,  the  Canon  came  to  me  privately  after  dinner 
and  said,  "  Look  here,  Capper,  for  the  sake  of  that 
dear  fellow's  soul,  to  say  nothing  of  his  temporal  reputa- 
tion, this  can't  rest  here.  So  you  must  go  and  '  verify 
your  references.'  Find  out  exact  details,  and  then 
come   back   to   me." 

I  at  once  flew  off  to  Mrs.  Black,  and  she  fetched 
in  the  barmaid,  who  not  only  assured  me  of  the  truth 
of  the  whole  sad  affair,  but  actually  stated  that  it  was 
eight  whiskies-and-sodas,  not  seven,  that  Mr.  X.  had 
consumed  that  famous  morning,  "  and  that's  nothing 
for  him,"  she  added,  with  a  toss  of  her  sunny  curls. 

I  went  back  to  the  Canon.  He  listened  with  grave 
face.  "  Very  well.  Capper,  you  must  meet  X.  face  to 
face  here  to-morrow  morning  and  repeat  your  charges." 
Which  I  did  accordingly,  and  a  very  disagreeable  five 
minutes  it  was  too  ;  but  it  all  worked  out  for  the  best, 
and  Mr.  X.  took  to  temperance  in  real  earnest,  and 
before  he  died,  many  years  afterwards,  he  had  rescued 
many  a  drunkard  from  his  hideous  fate  and  brought 
happiness  and  sunshine  into  many  a  dreary  and  ruined 
home. 


32  BASIL     WILBERFORCE 

Southampton  will  never  forget  that  famous  day  when 
Canon  Wilberforce,  who,  with  his  genial  ideas  upon 
hospitality  had  never  denied  to  the  guests  at  his  table 
the  wines  and  spirits  of  which  he  never  partook  him- 
self, and  against  the  use  of  which  he  was  never  weary 
of  declaiming  from  the  pulpit  and  the  platform,  emptied 
all  his  magnificent  vintages  and  choicest  liqueurs  into 
the  gutters  of  the  old  town.  It  was  a  splendid  action 
on  his  part,  and  testified  to  the  reality  of  his  coru- 
victions.  "  'E  ain't  no  bloomin'  'umbug/'  1  myself 
heard  one  working  man  say  to  another  as  he  breath- 
lessly related  what  he  had. just  seen,  "  but  it  went  to 
my  'eart  to  see  so  much  good  stuff  throw 'd  down  the 
gutter,  and  my  word,  Bill,  the  smell  of  it  1  "  And  the 
poor  fellow  smacked  appreciative  lips  at  the  mere 
memory  of  the  exquisite  bouquet  of  Chateau  Lafitte 
and  Moselle,  of  which  famous  wines  probably  that  one 
long  sniff  was  fated  to  be  his  first  and  last  experience. 

On  one  notable  occasion  Canon  Wilberforce  and  his 
wife  attended  a  Mission  conducted  by  the  famous  Vicar 
of  St.  Peter's,  Eaton  Square,  Dr.  Wilkinson,  afterwards 
Bishop  of  Truro.  Canon  Wilberforce  was  so  much 
impressed  by  one  of  the  eloquent  missioner's  addresses, 
which  dealt  very  forcibly  with  the  absolute  necessity 
for  every  possible  kind  of  self-sacrifice  and  self-denial 
on  the  part  of  the  real  Christian,  that  he  and  his  wife 
spent  half  the  following  night  resolving  upon  what  they 
ought  to  give  up  in  their  daily  life,  and  at  last  they 
determined  to  do  away  with  their  carriage  and  pair. 
The  next  day,  walking  in  the  Park,  they  were  somewhat 
surprised  and  disconcerted  to  meet  Dr.  Wilkinson  riding 
in  the  Row.  The  three  stopped  for  a  few  moments' 
conversation,  and  Canon  Wilberforce  told  the  Vicar 
of  St.  Peter's  of  their  decision — a  decision  which  met 
with    the    immediate   approval   of    the    Vicar.      "  But," 


BASIL     WILBERFORCE  33 

somewhat  caustically  observed  Basil  Wilberforce,,  "  I 
notice  you  are  riding  a  horse  yourself."  "  Well," 
replied  Dr.  Wilkinson,  "  if  you  like  to  bestow  such  a 
flattering  appellation  upon  this  poor  dear  animal,  your 
statement  is  true  enough,  but  beyond  the  fact  that  my 
steed  possesses  four  legs  and  a  tail,  it  might  be  an 
Angola  sheep  for  anything  to  the  contrary.  It  was 
given  me  by  an  old  maid  who  knew  as  much  about 
horses  as  an  Eskimo  knows  about  the  differential 
calculus.  I  have  tried  to  sell  it,  but  to  no  purpose, 
and  one  man  was  quite  rude  when  I  offered  to  let  him 
have  it  for  nothing.  Don't,  I  beg  of  you,  allow  my 
horse  to  stand  in  the  way  of  your  proposed  act  of  self- 
denial.  For  my  own  part,  it  is  a  special  act  of  penance 
each  time  I  ride  this  mysterious  creature  in  the  Park." 
It  was  in  the  drawing-room  at  the  Deanery  that  I 
was  "  turned  on  "  to  experiment  upon  many  of  those 
famous  evangelists  whom  1  have  mentioned,  as  well  as 
upon  some  of  the  best-known  literary  and  society  people 
of  the  day  who  were  only  too  delighted  to  accept  the 
hospitality  of  one  of  the  most  remarkable  ecclesiastics 
of  the  day.  I  can  remember  it  was  at  one  of  these 
meetings  that  I  first  gave  an  exhibition  of  the  well- 
known  "  bank-note  "  trick.  The  Rev.  Father  Corbett, 
a  well-known  Anglican  clergyman,  consented  to  be  my 
subject,  and  he  concentrated  his  mind  upon  the  number 
of  a  bank-note  in  his  pocket,  and  of  which  he  only 
knew  the  exact  figures.  I  am  pleased  to  say  that  I 
almost  instantaneously  wrote  down  the  number  upon 
the  blackboard,  the  exact  figures  being,  as  far  as  1 
can  remember  at  this  long  distance  of  time,  "  00005." 
I  believe  I  was  equally  successful  on  a  subsequent 
occasion,  and  with  a  precisely  similar  incident,  with 
the  Canon  himself.  The  reason  why  I  do  not  very  often 
attempt  this  bank-note  test  at   a  public   entertainment 

4 


34  BASIL     WILBERFORCE 

is  because  for  one  thing  it  is  not  so  showy  an  item  as 
some  from  the  mere  entertainment  point  of  view,  and 
also  it  requires  a  medium  with  exceptionally  strong 
will-power  to  make  it  a  success  at  all.  It  will  easily 
be  understood,  therefore,  that  the  thought-reader  has 
to  depend  even  more  upon  the  mind  of  his  subject  than 
upon  his  own.  It  is  that  which  constitutes  so  much 
the  anxiety  of  a  thought-reader  at  the  outset  of  an 
evening  amongst  absolute  strangers.  He  is  frequently 
entirely  at  the  mercy  of  a  frivolous,  a  maUcious, 
or  a  weak-willed  person.  As  a  rule,  however,  I 
have  triumphantly  surmounted  every  difiiculty  of  this 
kind. 

It  was  just  about  this  period  that  I  gave  a  demon- 
stration of  my  powers  which  was  the  means  of 
bringing  my  name  and  profession  very  prominently 
before  not  only  my  own  townsmen,  but  to  the  noticie 
of  all  England,  and  as  it  provides  an  amusing  and 
instructive  instance  of  one  way  in  which  to  advertise 
a  charity  entertainment,  I  will  relate  it  in  full.  I 
had  arranged  with  the  Canon,  whilst  still  an  amateur, 
to  give  a  thought-reading  seance  on  behalf  of  the 
new  Spire  Fund  of  his  church,  and  one  of  the  curates 
suggested  that  to  advertise  the  entertainment  I  should 
give  an  outdoor  demonstration  at  midday  of  the  day 
on  which  I  was  billed  to  appear.  I  at  once  jumped 
to  the  suggestion,  and  I  can  honestly  say  it  was  one  of 
my  most  interesting  experiences,  and  certainly  one  ot 
the  most  enthusiastic  audiences  I  ever  remember  was 
that  which  thronged  the  streets  on  that  memorable  day 
in  Southampton.  This  was  really  a  tremendous  affair, 
for  I  believe  that  not  less  than  ten  thousand  people 
lined  the  streets  on  that  occasion.  Somebody  rashly 
asserted  that  they  would  hide  an  article  within  a  radius 
of  a  mile  from  the  Royal  Hotel,  and  that  I  should  not 


BASIL     WILBERFORCE  35 

be  able  to  find  it  blindfolded.  I  accepited  the  challenge, 
and  sought  the  Mayor's  permission  in  open  court.  This 
he  gave  me  in  written  form,  as  is  legal  and  right,  and 
which  has  to  be  secured  by  organ-grinders,  etc.  It 
ran  as  follows  : — 

This  is  to  certify  that  Alfred  Capper  has  permission  to  play  in 
the  streets  of  Southampton  for  one  day,  providing  he  causes  no 
annoyance  to  the  inhabitants. 

(Signed)  J.  H.  Cooksey,  Mayor. 

Well,  when  twelve  o'clock  on  the  appointed  day 
arrived,  Southampton  High  Street  was  crowded  from 
end  to  end  by  people,  who  thronged  pavements  and 
streets  and  windows,  so  that  all  traffic  was  stopped  ; 
I  was  securely  locked  up  in  the  Royal  Hotel,  while  an 
alderman  and  well-known  justice  of  the  peace.  Alder- 
man Lomer,  started  off  to  hide  the  article — a  scarf-pin — 
within  a  mile  of  the  hotel.  He  left  the  house  by  a 
back-door,  so  that  the  crowd  should  not  know  where  he 
was  going.  At  12.30  he  returned,  and  the  chairman 
of  the  occasion — the  Member  for  the  borough.  Sir 
Frederick  Perkins — addressed  the  crowd  from  the  steps 
of  the  hotel,  and  begged  them  for  fair  play,  and  to 
let  Mr.  Capper  go  wherever  he  appeared  to  wish  to 
go.  I  then  asked  Alderman  Lomer  to  take  hold  of 
one  end  of  a  piece  of  braid  whilst  I  held  the  other, 
and  then  I  told  him  to  concentrate  his  thoughts  on  the 
whereabouts  of  the  hidden  article,  whilst  I,  tightly 
blindfolded,  rushed  right  down  Above  Bar  Street, 
through  the  Bar,  down  into  the  High  Street,  straight 
into  the  shop  of  Mr.  Cox,  over  the  counter,  up  some 
steps,  until  finally,  and  without  hesitation,  I  laid  my 
hands  on  General  Farmar's  scarf-pin,  secreted  at  the 
bottom  of  a  lot  of  ties  in  a  box.  It  was  a  great 
triumph. 


36  BASIL     WILBERFORCE 

I  end  this  chapter  as  I  began  it,  with  an  allusion 
to  the  man  who  has  done  so  much  for  me  all 
my  life.  It  has  always  been  a  source  of  quiet 
and  sincere  pleasure  and  gratification  to  me  that  the 
earliest  memories  of  my  professional  career  should  be 
associated  in  my  mind  with  the  name  and  work  and 
under  the  auspices  of  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
clergymen  I  have  ever  known.  Anthony  TroUope  has 
sketched  for  all  time  in  his  brilliant  novels  the  most 
typical  Anglican  clergy  of  the  Victorian  era,  but  even 
he  never  put  before  his  hearers  such  a  splendid  speci- 
men of  Anglicanism  as  has  been  afforded  us  in  the 
personality  of  Canon  Wilberforce.  Coming  of  a  family 
whose  very  name  is  redolent  of  the  Englishman's 
enthusiasm  and  undying  passion  for  freedom  and  inde- 
pendence, and  of  a  family  which  has  throughout  pre- 
served and  treasured  in  its  history  and  records  all  that 
is  highest  and  best  in  our  national  life,  Basil  Wilber- 
force will  ever  linger  in  my  memory  as  the  saintliest 
and  the  most  lovable,  as  well  as  the  most  distinguished, 
in  the  highest  sense  of  the  word,  and  the  most  venerated 
personality   I   have   ever  known. 


CHAPTER    IV 

MY   FIRST   LONDON   APPEARANCE 

My  first  London  appearance  was  at  St.  James's  Hall. 
Nobody   asked   me    to    give   my   performance,    for    the 
very   simple   reason   that   nobody   in   London  had   ever 
heard  of  me  or  my  thought-reading.      Alone  I   did  it. 
It  v^^as  not  unnatural  that  I  should  wish  to  secure  the 
approbation    of    the    London    Press    and    the    priceless 
imprimatur  of  metropolitan  society  ;    to  make  a  mone- 
tary  profit   of   the    first   entertainment    I    knew   before- 
hand was  an  impossibility,  but  the  prestige  that  would 
attend  a  successful  London  debiit  would  probably  estab- 
lish me  for  all  future  time.      I  need  scarcely  add  that 
until  the  evening  was  past  and  over,  the  battle  fought 
and  won,  I  was  a  mere  bundle  of  rags,  so  terrible  was 
my  nervousness  and  so  very  limited  my  confidence  in 
my   o\vn   powers.        However,   nothing   venture  nothing 
have,  and  therefore  I  made  the  plunge,  sending  out  a 
thousand  invitations  to  the  most  famous  people  of  the 
day,    of    whom    no    less    than    five    hundred    responded, 
including  representatives  from  the  whole  London  Press. 
Now    it    is    quite    possible    that    certain    readers,    and 
especially  amongst  my  brother  professional  entertainers 
of  all  sorts  and  conditions,  may  say  that  such  a  per- 
centage of  acceptances  was  impossible  ;   but  I  can  only 
declare    it    is    the    simple    truth.       It    was    in    marked 
contrast    to    a    friend    of    mine    who    recently    sent    out 
eighteen   thousand   invitations    for   a   special   entertain- 

37 


38         MY    FIRST   LONDON    APPEARANCE 

ment  at  one  of  the  greatest  theatres  in  London,  on 
which  occasion  only  eight  hundred  people  or  so  turned 
up  ;  and  the  happy  response  to  my  invitation  far  ex- 
ceeded that  which  was  accorded  another  friend  of  mine 
who  sent  out  six  hundred  invitations,  more  than  suffi- 
cient to  fill  the  Bechstein  Hall,  where  his  entertainment 
— a  very  fine  musical  recital — was  given,  and  who  had 
the  mortification  on  the  eventful  evening  of  finding 
only  twelve  people  in  the  hall,  and  not  a  single  repre- 
sentative from  the  Press,  whereas  I  had  a  record 
number  of  Pressmen,  who  very  generously  gav^e  me, 
I  think  I  may  honestly  say,  record  notices.  The 
reason,  as  it  appears  to  me,  was  simply  this  :  Thought- 
reading  was,  and  is,  a  magnet  which  rarely  fails  to 
attract  people  who  would  not  dream  of  entering  a 
theatre,  or  to  whom  a  concert  would  be  only  an  occa- 
sion of  ineftable  boredom,  in  addition  to  the  fact  that 
vast  crowds  of  theatre-  and  concert-goers  would  be  only 
too  glad  to  vary  their  experiences  by  coming  to  my 
entertainment.  This  fact,  I  am  well  aware,  is  not 
owing  to  any  special  or  remarkable  personality  of  my 
own,  but  to  the  fact  that  the  mystic  and  the  inex- 
plicable exercise  an  irresistible  fascination  for  the  whole 
of  mankind,  wherever  they  may  be  found  ;  and  that 
is  why  I  am  so  proud  and  pleased  to  have  numbered 
amongst  my  audiences  men  and  women  of  the  most 
varied  pursuits  and  the  keenest  and  most  intellectual 
minds  of  the  day. 

Wlien  I  appeared  on  the  platform  that  memorable 
night  and  gazed  down  upon  the  upturned,  expectant  faces 
of  my  audience  my  feelings  may  be  better  imagined 
than  described.  There  was  I — not  to  put  too  fine  a 
point  upon  it — a  comparatively  raw  young  man,  fresh 
from  the  provinces,  standing  alone  upon  a  platform 
thronged    with    historic    memories,    and    there    beneath 


MY   FIRST   LONDON    APPEARANCE         39 

me   sat    representatives    of    the    leading   society    in    the 
world — smart  society  people,  famous  ecclesiastics,  world- 
renowned  actors,  doctors  whose  names  were  household 
words,  literary  men  with  reputations  that  were  European, 
and    soldiers    who    had    distinguished    themselves    upon 
the  battlefields  of  half  a  century.      Now  and  again,  as 
a  white  wave  lifts  itself  from,  for  one  flashing  moment, 
and  dips  down  again  into  the  purple  welter  that  surges 
to  and  fro  between  the  vast  horizons,  a  visage,  familiar 
to   me   through  the   pungent   pencil  of  the  caricaturist, 
would  gleam  upon  me  smilingly  or  kindly,  or  perhaps 
even   a   little   cynically  ;     so   it  appeared  to   my   nerve - 
shaken  perceptions,   and  in  a  moment   it  would  be  re- 
placed by  the  genial  features  of  the  clean-cut  contour 
of   a   world-famed   statesman,    or   else  it   would  be   the 
piquant,   riante  face   of   one   of  the  best-known   society 
beauties  of  the  day,  that  laughingly  met  my  perturbed 
vision.      They    all    were    there,    and    I    knew    that    the 
most    eventful    and    critical    moment    of    my    life    had 
arrived.      Was    I    equal   to   it? 

It  was  like  standing  on  the  steps  of  a  bathing- 
machine  on  a  cold,  windy  day.  I  didn't  stand  long  ; 
I  made  my  plunge,  and  started  off  with  an  impromptu, 
but  exceedingly  popular,  recitation.  When  I  had 
finished  I  had  my  audience  in  the  palm  of  my  hand, 
and  my  nervousness  had  not  only  utterly  disappeared, 
but  it  was  succeeded  by  a  spirit  of  adventuresomeness 
and  derry-down-derry  such  as  I  had  never  experienced 
before  and  have  never  experienced  since.  I  simply 
didn't  care  what  I  did,  and  the  result  was  I  took 
every  obstacle  with  a  jump  that  cleared  me  well  over 
everything.  Down  amongst  my  audience,  and  most 
distinguished-looking  of  a  very  distinguished  crowd, 
sat  the  Venerable  Archdeacon  Gordon -Gumming  Dun- 
bar, at  that  time  a  noted  figure  in  London  social  and 


40        MY    FIRST   LONDON    APPEARANCE 

ecclesiastical  circles.  And  a  very  striking  appearance 
he  presented,  with  his  splendidly  cut  aristocratic 
features,  his  long,  wavy  hair,  his  strictly  archidiaconal 
costume  and  well-shaped  legs  clad  in  the  most  irre- 
proachable silk  stockings.  His  appearance  fascinated, 
nay,  it  absolutely  hypnotized,  me,  and  when  I  invited 
some  of  the  audience  to  come  forward  and  assist  me 
in  my  first  thought-reading  experiment  I  was  greatly 
rejoiced  to  note  that  he  was  in  the  very  van  of  them. 
But  he  was  a  failure  as  a  medium  ;  I  am  bound  to 
acknowledge  that.  The  truth  of  the  matter  is  that 
he  was  so  popular  and  so  well  known  a  personage, 
and  especially  amongst  the  fairer  half  of  my  audience, 
that  the  whole  time  we  were  walking  down  the  hall 
together,  I  with  eyes  bound  tight  as  usual,  trying  to 
submit  myself  to  his  wandering  and  wavering  will  to 
do  what  had  previously  been  arranged  upon,  he  was 
bowing  and  smiling  and  waving  his  disengaged  hand 
so  much  and  so  frequently  to  the  "  Duchess  of  This  " 
and  "  dear  Lady  That  "  and  "  my  old  friend  the 
Countess  of  Other,"  that  any  serious  attempt  at 
thought-reading  was  impossible  ;  so  I  had  to  abandon 
him.  But  1  may  add  that  he  wasn't  altogether  a 
failure,  so  far  at  all  events  as  the  audience  was  con- 
cerned, for  his  antics  and  grimaces  and  bowings  and 
scrapings  highly  amused  friends  and  foes  alike,  whilst 
the  good  man  himself,  to  judge  from  the  letter  he 
wrote  me  the  following  day,  evidently  thoroughly 
enjoyed   himself  : — 

My  dear  Mr.  C'apper, — A  thousand  thanks  for  a  most  delightful 
evening.  We  all  agreed  we  had  never  enjoyed  ourselves  so  much 
before  in  all  our  lives. 

As    I    had   made   so   conspicuous   a   failure   with   the 
Venerable  Archdeacon,  and  as  it  was  obvious  to  every 


MY    FIRST   LONDON    APPEARANCE         41 

one  present  that  it  was  not  in  the  least  my  fault,  Dr. 
Forbes  Winslow,  the  famous  mental  specialist,  who  died, 
indeed,  only  a  few  months  ago,  sprang  out  of  his  seat 
and  offered  his  services,  and  with  him  I  was  instan- 
taneously successful. 

It  was  on  this  occasion  that  I  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  the  Rev.  H.  R.  Haweis,  who  had  brought  with 
him  his  dear  friend  Canon  Farrar,  then  in  the  very 
height  of  his  fame,  and  whose  sermons  on  Eternal 
Punishment  were  thrilling  the  whole  town.  Mr.  Haweis 
came  up  to  me  after  the  entertainment  and  introduced 
both  himself  and  his  companion,  and  we  discussed  what 
was  to  them  at  all  events  the  very  novel  nature  of 
my  entertainment.  I  may  mention  that  in  an  indirect 
fashion  Mr.  Haweis  himself  assisted  me  that  night  in 
one  of  my  experiments. 

Now  this  was  an  experiment  in  which  I  ask  my 
medium  to  take  a  knife,  select  a  victim  and  murder 
him,  and  afterwards  hide  the  weapon.  When  this  is 
done  I  return  blindfolded,  find  the  knife,  and  go 
through  the  murder  exactly  as  he  did  it.  This  episode 
I  presented  at  St.  James's  Hall.  The  deed  was  done 
during  my  absence  in  the  ante-room.  I  came  in  and 
took  hold  of  my  medium's  hand  in  the  usual  manner 
and  asked  him  to  think  where  the  knife  was.  I  imme- 
diately followed  his  thoughts  and  rushed  to  a  little 
alcove  in  the  wall,  but  the  knife  was  not  there.  My 
medium  was  very  much  annoyed  to  find  that  some  one 
had  removed  it.  I  consequently  went  on  with  the 
rest  of  the  experiment,  and  succeeded.  The  knife  hap- 
pened to  be  Mr.  Haweis's  property,  and  he  was  in- 
dignant to  think  that  one  of  his  friends  should  have 
behaved  in  so  extraordinary  a  manner,  and  asked  for 
the  culprit  to  reveal  himself  or  herself,  as  he  wanted 
the  knife  back.      There  was  no  response.     Among  the 


42         MV    FIRST    LONDON    APPEARANCE 

audience  was  Sir  Morell  Mackenzie,  who  had  never 
witnessed  any  of  these  experiments  before.  He  specially 
asked  to  be  introduced  to  me  to  congratulate  me  on 
my  success.  He  considered  it  was  very  bad  form  for 
any  one  to  behave  in  this  way,  but  he  thought  it  showed 
the  genuineness  of  the  illustration  so  far  as  I  was  con- 
cerned. The  audience  were  also  of  his  opinion,  and 
indeed  they  heartily  reviled  the  unknown  thief,  in  no 
measured  terms  either.  Many  days  had  elapsed,  and 
I  had  almost  forgotten  the  circumstance,  but  Mr. 
Haweis  had  not  allowed  the  matter  to  rest,  with  the 
result  that  close  inquiry  revealed  the  culprit  to  be  none 
other  than  the  medical  son  of  Sir  Morell  Mackenzie, 
who  took  the  knife  for  a  joke  as  he  was  leaving  the 
Hall  en  route  for  a  dance. 

Canon  Farrar  and  Mr.  Haweis  and  I  had  a  long 
chat  in  the  little  ante-room  after  all  was  over.  I 
don't  remember  verv  much  of  our  conversation,  but 
I  do  recollect  that  it  concluded  by  Mr,  Haweis  inviting 
me  to  drive  back  with  him  to  Chelsea,  and,  said  he  : 
"  If  you  will  come  with  me,  I'll  give  you  a  glass  of 
wine  out  of  a  bottle  that  belonged  to  Martin  Luther, 
wine  and  all  !  or  rather  it  may  be  more  correct  to 
say  that  1  will  show  you  the  wine  ;  it  is  too  rare 
and  precious  a  bottle  ever  to  open." 

Amongst  the  audience  were  poor  Oscar  Wilde, 
Florence  Marryat,  who  was  always  interested  in 
all  that  pertained  to  the  mystical,  Florence  St. 
John  and  her  husband,  M.  Marius,  both  of  them 
at  the  height  of  their  popularity  and  who  had  evidently 
taken  an  evening  off  for  the  occasion,  Mark  Twain, 
and  the  famous  society  raconteur  and  litterateur, 
Augustus  J.  C.  Hare,  who  accompanied  Mr.  Haweis  and 
myself  to  the  former's  delightful  residence  in  Chelsea. 

Queen's   House,   where  Mr.   Haweis  was  then  living. 


MY    FIRST   LONDON    APPEARANCE         43 

was  built  by  Charles  II  for  Catherine  of  Braganza, 
and  its  walls  had  sheltered  many  interesting  and  dis- 
tinguished people  since  the  days  when  first  the  swarthy 
monarch  would  pay  calls  upon  his  wife,  accompanied 
by  his  beloved  King  Charles  spaniel.  But  I  will  be 
bound  to  say  that  no  more  brilliant  or  amusing  people 
had  ever  passed  within  these  stately  portals  than  the 
three  men  who  were  my  companions  on  that  never- 
to-be-forgotten  occasion.  Mr.  Haweis,  dear  man  !  gave 
us  a  most  delightful  supper,  for,  delicate  though  he 
was,  he  was  a  thorough  gourmet,  which  I  am  sure 
my  readers  will  agree  with  me  is  a  very  different  thing 
from  a  gourmand  and  which  carries  no  such  reproach 
with  it  as  does  the  latter,  and  the  result  was  that, 
gastronomically,  the  evening  was  a  great  success.  But 
it  was  as  a  host  and  as  a  conversationalist  that  Mr. 
Haweis  shone  ;  and  I  can  assure  you  his  work  was 
cut  out  for  him  on  that  special  occasion. 

As  the  three  men  sat  beneath  the  radiant  chandelier 
and  the  brilliant  white  light  outlined  their  remarkable 
features  against  the  oak-panelled   walls   of  the  historic 
room,    I    sat    and    pondered  upon  the  interesting  scene. 
Haweis,  at  that  time  as  always,  a  notable  and  a  vivid 
personality,  sat,  a  little  lame,   crouched-up  figure,  with 
huge  black  whiskers,  which  he  shaved  off  in  later  years, 
enclosing  a  deathly  pale  face  in  which  the  eyes  shone 
with  an  intense  brilliance,  and  he  hardly  stopped  talk- 
ing  for   a   moment.      Opposite   to   him  sat   the   famous 
x\merican  humorist,  with  his  shock  of  even  then  swiftly 
greying     hair     overshadowing     and     encompassing    his 
striking  and  finely-cut  features  and  his  beloved  corncob - 
pipe  between  his  lips,  whilst  between  them,  and  in  glow- 
ing contrast  to  both,  the  sombre,  black-hued  figure  of 
the  English  clergyman  and  the  rough-hewn,  homely,  but 
agile  and  steel-like  and  ready-to-spring  personality  of 


44         MY    FIRST   LONDON    APPEARANCE 

the  erstwhile  Mississippi  pilot,  sat  the  very  fashionable 
London  society  man,  Augustus  J.  C.  Hare,  prince  of 
raconteurs,  high  priest  of  the  purveyors  of  trivial  gossip, 
and  king  for  all  time  of  that  class  of  persons  who 
flourish  more  in  England  than  anywhere  else  on  earth, 
the  British  snob — and  I  don't  say  it  unkindly  for  a 
single  moment,  for  there  was  nothing  mean  or  petty 
in  Hare's  snobbishness  ;  he  was  the  soul  of  good- 
nature and  a  real  good  fellow,  but  he  was  the  very 
type  and  essence  of  all  that  is  meant  in  the  most 
harmless  and  inoffensive  sense  of  the  word — a  British 
snob. 

The  conversation  after  a  while,  having  glanced  upon 
almost  every  conceivable  subject,  touched  upon  humour 
and  what  it  was  that  constituted  a  sense  of  humour, 
and  Mark  Twain — surely  the  greatest  authority  on  earth 
upon  such  a  subject— declared  that  in  nine  cases  out 
of  ten  it  was  the  result  of  contrast.  "  For  instance," 
he  drawled  out  in  his  inevitable  Southern  twang,  "  why 
does  one  always  feel  inclined  to  laugh  in  church?  It 
is  a  curious  thing,"  he  went  on — and  how  true  his 
remark  is  and  how  thorough  a  knowledge  of  human 
nature  it  displayed  !— "  it  is  a  curious  thing,  but  you 
will  often  find  the  richest,  rarest  humour  amongst  the 
most  solemn  and  sour-visaged  people  in  the  world. 
A  down-east  Yankee  farmer,  for  instance,  even  though 
he  mayn't  be  conscious  of  it  himself,  is  frequently  the 
most  humorous  soul  alive,  whilst  it's  a  mighty  poor  yarn 
that  the  Scotch  dialect  doesn't  transform  into  a  very 
gem  of  humour.  Now,  Mr.  Haweis,"  he  continued, 
"  here  is  a  specimen  of  absolutely  unconscious  humour 
which  occurred  at  a   Vermont   funeral  : 

"  A  farmer's  wife  had  died  and,  as  is  the  custom  in 
America,  the  people  of  the  neighbourhood  were  all 
assembled  in  the  dining-room  for  the  first  part  of  the 


MY    FIRST   LONDON    APPEARANCE         45 

service,  the  coffin  standing  solemnly  in  the  middle  of 
the  room. 

"  After  a  few  minutes  of  dead  silence  the  clergy- 
man rose  to  begin  the  service,  when  immediately  his 
coat-tails  were  pulled  by  the  chief  mourner,  the  dis- 
consolate widower.  '  .We  are  not  quite  ready  yet,'  said 
he,  and  so  the  minister  sat  down  again  amid  a  dead 
silence.  Ten  minutes  more  elapsed,  and  the  clergy- 
man again  rose  to  his  feet  and  began  the  service. 
Again  he  was  pulled  back  into  his  place.  '  We  are 
not  quite  ready  yet,'  said  the  farmer  ;  '  please  wait  a 
minute.'  After  another  interval  of  most  puzzled  and 
uncomfortable  silence  the  clergyman  took  his  watch 
out  of  his  pocket  and,  leaning  over  towards  the 
husband,  he  said,  '  My  dear  brother,  I  am  sorry, 
but  I  have  an  appointment  at  three  and  it  is  already 
half -past  two.      I   really  must  begin.' 

"  '  I  am  very  sorry,'  replied  the  master  of  the  house, 
'  but  she  ain't  all  here  yet ;  her  stomach's  at  the 
apothecary's  !  '  " 

This  story  hugely  delighted  Mr.  Haweis,  and  whilst 
we  were  still  laughing  over  it  Mr.  Hare  chimed  in. 
"  Well,  Mr.  Clemens,"  said  he,  "  I  think  I  can  match 
that  with  an  English  experience.  It  occurred  at  a 
spiritualistic  meeting.  The  seance  had  well  begun,  in  a 
darkened  room,  and  suddenly  a  sort  of  thrill  went 
through  the  people  assembled  at  the  table.  And  then 
one  of  them  said  to  a  spirit  that  stood  in  their  midst  : 

"  '  Is  that  you,   'Enery?  ' 

"  '  Yes,  'Arriet,  it  is,'  replied  the  ghost,  dropping 
his  aitches  as  so  many  of  them  do. 

"  '  Are   you    'appy,    'Enery?  ' 

"  '  Yes,    'Arriet,   very    'appy.' 

"  '  'Appier  than  when  you  was  with  me,   'Enery?  ' 

"  '  Yes,   'Arriet,  far   'appier  !  ' 


46        MY    FIRST    LONDON    APPEARANCE 

"  '  .Where  are  you,  'Enery?  ' 

"  •  In   'ell  !  '  " 

"  Well,  Mr.  Hare,"  said  Mark  Twain,  "  I  think  you 
must  take  the  prize  to-night." 

Just  at  this  moment  poor  dear  Mrs.  Haweis,  a 
daughter  of  Mr.  Joy,  a  famous  sculptor  and  artist  of 
the  last  century,  entered  the  room,  and  speedily  dis- 
persed us  with  the  information  that  her  husband  had 
a  very  busy  day  in  front  of  him  and  that  as  it  was 
long  past  midnight  it  was  high  time  he  was  in  bed. 
Mrs,  Haweis  was  a  clever,  a  charming,  and  a  versa- 
tile personality,  and  1  am  only  too  sorry  that  that  was 
the  only  glimpse  1  ever  obtained  of  a  singularly  dainty 
and  fascinating  Avoman,  though  I  am  quite  aware 
that  in  this  very  brief  suggestion  of  what  I  then  ex- 
perienced of  her  I  must  perforce  give  my  readers  the 
impression  that  she  was  something  of  a  Mrs.  Caudle 
in  actual  home-life.  As  a  matter  of  fact  I  never 
even  heard  of  her  again  until  the  news  of  her  death 
was  conveyed  to  me  many  years  afterwards  in  the 
following    extraordinary    fashion. 

Mrs.  Haweis  died — I  forget  the  year — and  Mr. 
Haweis,  accompanied  by  a  famous  and  very  eccentric 
and  outre  poet  and  man  of  letters,  then  at  the  very 
top  of  his  fame  and  bent  in  London  town,  took  the 
remains  of  his  wife  doAvn  to  Brookwood  to  be  cremated. 
At  the  conclusion  of  the  mournful  service  he  wrapped 
the  sacred  ashes  of  her  who  had  once  been  all  dear 
to  him  in  his  pocket-handkerchief,  and  he  and  the 
poet  took  their  seats  in  the  mourners'  train.  On  the 
journey  back  to  Vauxhall  they  fell  into  an  extra- 
ordinarily animated  discussion  on  some  Uterary  matter 
of  interest  to  them  both,  and  when  the  train  drew  up 
at  the  platform  the  two  men  sprang  out,  still  vehement 
in    their    controversy.     Just    as    he    was    passing    the 


MY    FIRST   LONDON    APPEARANCE         47 

ticket-collector  Mr.  Haweis  suddenly  plunged  his  hand 
into  his  pocket,  and  drew  it  out  again  with  an 
exclamation  of  despair.  "  Oh,  good  gracious  1  "  he 
agonizedly  cried  out,  '"  I've  left  Mrs.  Haweis  on  the 
seat  1  "  And  he  forthwith  rushed  back,  the  poet  fol- 
lowing excitedly  in  his  rear.  Luckily  they  discovered 
the  deceased  lady,  or  what  was  left  of  her,  upon  the 
carriage  seat,  and  bore  her  off  in  mingled  triumph  and 
sorrow  to  the  darkened  home  in  Chelsea. 

But  to  return  to  my  muttons,  which  have  been  almost 
obscured  by  my  memories  of  Mr.  Haweis.  My  St. 
James's  Hall  performance  was  not  only  a  great  and 
immediate  success,  but  it  led  to  engagements  all  over 
England,  some  of  them  of  the  most  important  nature. 
I  have  purposely  refrained  from  quoting  Press  notices, 
as  I  fancy  so  many  of  my  brethren  are  in  the  habit  of 
doing  in  works  of  this  kind  ;  not  that  I  do  not  appre- 
ciate and  value  more  than  I  can  say  the  splendid 
manner  in  which  the  London  and  provincial  Press  have 
always  treated  me  and  my  humble  performances,  but 
I  feel  it  would  hardly  be  in  the  best  of  taste  that  I 
should  so  vaunt  and  boast  of  my  doings,  as  it  were, 
the  more  especially  as  this  book  is  not  intended  in  any 
way  as  a  personal  advertisement.  As  I  say,  my  St. 
James's  Hall  entertainment  led  to  many  others,  and, 
most  important  of  all,  it  was  the  direct  reason  of  my 
being  invited  to  appear  by  Royal  Command  at  Marl- 
borough House,  and  to  my  thus  receiving,  what  is  the 
ambition  of  every  man  or  woman  in  the  community 
generally,  and  particularly  in  the  entertaining  world, 
the  imprimatur  of  Royal  approval.  In  the  next  chapter 
I  will  deal  with  this  interesting  and  never-to-be- 
forgotten  occasion   in  full   detail. 


CHAPTER    V 

ROYAL   MEMORIES 

I  CAN  never  forget  that  hot  June  morning  when,  after 
a  very  restless  night,  I  jumped  out  of  bed  and  rushed 
to  the  window  and  beheld  the  glorious  summer  sun 
illuminating  the  vast  city,  for  it  was  the  morning  of 
that  unforgettable  day  when  I  was  to  make  my  first 
appearance  before  Royalty,  always  an  epoch-making 
event  in  the  life  of  the  professional  entertainer. 

I  was  horribly  nervous  and  yet  curiously  elated  as 
I  passed  through  the  great  gates  of  Marlborough 
House,  and  was  directed  by  an  attendant  detective  to 
the  front  door. 

Passing  right  through  the  handsome  suite  of  rooms 
on  the  ground  floor,  I  proceeded  through  glass  doors 
reaching  from  floor  to  ceiling,  and  slowly  followed  the 
red-clad  footman  to  the  wide-spreading  lawn,  bordered 
with  gaily  flowered  parterres,  and  upon  which  was 
seated  one  of  the  most  august  parties  in  the  world. 
As  soon  as  he  saw  me  our  late  dear  and  lajnented 
Sovereign,  then  Prince  of  Wales,  stepped  forward,  and, 
extending  his  hand  to  mine,  he  cried  in  his  loud,  genial 
voice,  "  Well,  Mr.  Capper,  here  you  are.  We  are 
all  very   excited  about   your  visit  !  " 

"  Well,  Sir,"  I  replied,  as  I  bowed  low  over  his  hand, 
"  I  am  feeling  very  nervous  myself." 

"  Oh,    rubbish  !  "   cried   the   Prince.      "  It's   we   who 

ought   to   be   nervous,   for   I   understand   you   are   quite 

48 


ROYAL     MEMORIES  49 

an  autocrat  at  your  entertainments,  so  we  shall  all  be 
ready  to  do  just  what  we  are  told.  Remember,  you 
are  boss  of  the  show  entirely  !  " 

And  then  His  Royal  Highness  presented  me  to  the 
Princess  of  Wales  and  to  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  Prince 
George  of  Wales  (our  present  King),  and  to  the 
Princesses  Louise  (now  the  Princess  Royal),  Maud  (now 
Queen  of  Norway),  and  Victoria,  and  to  the  few  guests 
who  were  present,  amongst  whom  I  remember  that 
remarkable  and  delightfully  gracious  and  charming 
personality  of  the  Victorian  era  Maria  Marchioness  of 
Ailesbury,  the  Countess  of  Rosebery,  Mr.  Christopher 
Sykes,  and  a  few  others  ;  a  very  simple,  homely, 
delightfully  at-ease  sort  of  family  party.  These  pre- 
sentations over,  the  Prince  turned  to  me  and  said, 
"  Now,  Mr.  Capper,  we  are  all  ready  to  do  your 
bidding." 

I  said,  "  Very  good,  your  Royal  Highness  ;  will 
you  let  me  lead  off  with  you?  " 

His  Royal  Highness  laughed  heartily,  entering  fully 
into  the  spirit  of  the  thing,  and  immediately  complied 
with  my  request.  And  now  I  was  confronted  with  my 
first  difficulty,  one  I  had  half  dreaded,  to  tell  the  truth, 
would  be  the  case,  for  of  course  I  had  often  experienced 
the  same  difficulty  before  ;  but  circumstances  and  sur- 
roundings so  modify  and  change  conditions  that  I  felt 
it  almost  impossible  to  combat  this  old  difficulty  under 
the  very  new  and,  to  myself  at  all  events,  very  nervous 
conditions  to  which  I  was  then  subjected.  There  was 
just  at  first,  as  is  so  often  the  case,  a  distinct  spirit 
of  levity  amongst  my  Royal  audience.  This,  of  course, 
is  always  fatal  to  the  success  of  any  experiment,  and 
the  worst  part  of  it  was  that  the  Prince,  who  was  to 
act  as  my  medium,  was  the  most  levity-inclined  of  the 
whole    party.      Even    in    an    ordinary    audience,    where 

S 


50  ROYAL    MEMORIES 

every  person  is  a  complete  stranger  to  me,  it  is  a 
difficult  thing,  passing  through  a  crowded  hall,  blind- 
folded, to  control  and  keep  control  of  and  to  dominate 
the  whole  situation.  It  was  a  thousand  times  more  so 
when  I  was  called  upon  to  lead  and  control  an 
assemblage  composed  literally  of  some  of  the  princi- 
palities and  powers  of  the  world.  However,  my 
business  is  my  livelihood,  and  the  occasion  de- 
manded that  it  should  be  transacted  and  carried 
on  in  the  most  serious  and  businesslike  manner 
possible. 

*'  I  beg  your  pardon.  Sir,"  I  said,  "  but  if  I  am  to 
succeed  in  this  experiment  I  can  only  do  so  by  my 
conditions  and  requirements  being  carried  out  to  the 
letter." 

The  Prince  stopped  at  once  and  said,  "  Oh,  cer- 
tainly, Mr.  Capper  ;  but  please  tell  us  exactly  what 
you  require." 

"  Well,  Sir,"  I  replied,  summoning  up  all  my  courage 
and  much  encouraged  by  his  manner,  "  in  the  first 
place  I  would  prefer  you  didn't  smoke  that  cigar  ;  it 
distracts  your  attention,  which  must  be  fixed  upon  the 
matter  in  hand." 

The  Prince  at  once  flung  away  his  cigar,  and  then 
asked  me,    "  Is   there   anything  more?  " 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  I  said.  "  I  must  beg  your  Royal 
Highness  not  to  laugh  or  joke  with  the  audience,  nor 
allow  them  to  joke  with  you.  And  oh,  Sir,  I  must 
beg  you  to  send  away  these  dogs  which  are  snapping 
at  my  heels  all  the  time  ;  I  don't  think  they  like  my 
holding   your   Royal   Highness's   hand." 

Whereupon,  a  servant  having  removed  the  dogs,  the 
Prince  and  the  audience  assumed  the  quietest  and  most 
thoughtful  demeanour  ;  and,  taking  His  Royal  High- 
ness's   hand,    I    started   off    down    the    garden,    blind- 


ROYAL     MEMORIES  5 1 

folded  of  course,  and  then  stopped  in  front  of  a 
rose-tree,  plucked  a  bud,  and  returned  swiftly,  with 
the  Prince  panting  in  my  rear,  and  walked  straight  up 
to  the  Princess  and  gave  her  the  flower,  amid  loud 
applause,  for  it  was  exactly  what  His  Royal  Highness 
had  intended  I   should  do. 

The  Prince  was  greatly  pleased.  "  One  thing 
I  have  learnt,  Mr.  Capper,  and  that  is  that  your 
assistants  really  have  to  work.  I  never  thought  so 
hard  in  my  life,  and  I  am  quite  sure  I  never  walked 
so  fast." 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  I  replied,  "  and  I  am  deeply  obliged 
to  your  Royal  Highness.  The  secret  of  any  success 
I  may  have  in  an  entertainment  depends  quite  as  much 
upon  my  assistants  as  upon  myself,  and  it  is  the  one 
thing  I  find  so  difficult  to  impress  upon  them  ;  they 
will  not  always  give  their  minds  to  what  is  required  of 
them.  They  think'  I  have  to  do  all  the  work,  whilst  the 
truth  of  the  matter  is,  they  have  to  do  just  as  much 
as   I   have,  perhaps  even  more." 

"  Quite  so,"  replied  the  Prince.  "  Well  now,  Mr. 
Capper,   what   else   can   we   do?  " 

"  Well,  Sir,"  I  answered,  "  suppose  you  write  down 
the  name  or  names  of  some  friends  and  then  hand  this 
paper,  folded  in  an  envelope  so  that  neither  I  nor  any 
one  else  can  see  it,  and  then  I  will  endeavour  to  tell 
you  the  name  you  have  written."  I  may  mention  that 
this  is  an  item  in  my  programme  which  is  very  popular 
with  my  audiences,  but  which  is  a  totally  different  kind 
of  thought-reading  from  what  I  usually  do. 

The  Prince  wrote  down  a  name  upon  a  piece  of 
paper,  which  he  himself  folded  up  and  put  into  an 
envelope,  which  was  placed  in  the  care  of  Mr. 
Christopher  Sykes,  the  Prince's  bosom  friend.  I  then 
requested  His  Royal  Highness  to  think  intently  of  the 


52  ROYAL    MEMORIES 

number  of  letters  in  both  the  Christian  and  the  surnames 
he  had  written,  and  I  bade  him  gaze  intently  into  my 
eyes  the  while.  This  caused  a  certain  amount  of  audible 
amusement,  which  the  Prince  at  once  peremptorily 
quelled,  he  being  obviously  and  most  amusingly 
nervous  as  to  the  effect  it  might  have  upon  me  and 
my  demonstration.  After  a  short  interval  I  told  him 
that  the  number  of  figures  in  the  Christian  name  were 
five  and  that  there  were  nine  in  the  surname.  I  further 
told  him  he  had  written  a  lady's  name,  for  whom  he 
had  a  great  admiration.  Despite  the  Prince's  severe 
admonitions  and  still  more  severe  countenance,  this 
was  too  much  for  his  audience,  who  burst  into  irre- 
pressible merriment.  When  quiet  was  restored  I 
declared  that  the  name  upon  the  paper  in  Mr.  Sykes's 
possession  was  "  Maria  Ailesbury,"  and  I  well  remember 
the  dear  old  lady  crying  out  in  the  voice  so  well  known 
in  London  society  in  those  far-off  days,  "  Bless  my 
soul  !    how  on  earth  does  the  man  do  it?  " 

Dear  me  !  how  it  all  comes  back  to  me,  that  summer 
day  of  long  ago  I  Across  the  river  of  years  comes 
the  sound  of  the  merry  laughter  of  that  august  throng* 
as  they  crowded  delightedly  round  the  genial  old 
Marchioness  ;  I  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  Princess  of 
Wales,  always  lovable  and  beautiful,  holding  the  old 
lady's  hand,  in  fits  of  inextinguishable  laughter  at 
some  joke  I  had  not  caught,  whilst  Miss  Charlotte 
Knollys  and  Lord  Suffield  and  Lady  Radnor  (then 
Lady  Folkestone,  of  smart  society  fame;  and  a 
great  personage  at  Court)  were  choking  with  the 
merriment  they  found  it  impossible  to  repress.  I  gave 
several  other  demonstrations,  and  then  wound  up  with 
an  illustration  in  which  I  was  assisted  by  the  Duke 
of  Clarence,  who,  with  his  charming  face,  so  much  in 
the  likeness  of  his  beautiful  mother,  and  immaculately 


y^  A 


Cl-i^x 


■^  •--   ^~Ay>^ ty^  a^  A,  M^  c*jk:  -'V^.  £ 


Keproducecl  (by  kind  peniiission)  from  llic  llhislrnled  S/^cniiiiil  and  Dramatic  Xoi'S. 


ROYAL    MEMORIES  53 

clad  as  he  always  was,  presented  a  most  amusing 
appearance  as  he  chased  after  me  down  that  beautiful 
summer    garden. 

I  reproduce  here  a  sketch  of  this  portion  of  the 
entertainment,  which  amusingly  depicts  the,  to  me,  un- 
forgettable scene,  and  which  appeared  the  following 
week  in  the  Illustrated  Sporting  and  Dramatic  Neu^s 
of  that  date.  This  sketch  is  reproduced  by  the  kind! 
permission  of  the  proprietors  of  this  paper. 

As  soon  as  the  entertainment  was  over,  by  which 
time  I  was  extremely  hot  and  both  physically  and 
mentally  wearied,  though  more  delighted  with  my 
experience  than  I  had  ever  imagined  it  was  possible 
a  man  could  be,  the  Prince  came  up  to  me  and  said, 
"  Now,  Mr.  Capper,  you  must  be  half  dead  ;  coma 
and  have  some  tea  with  us," 

Accordingly  I  joined  the  Royal  party  in  the  most 
charmingly  homely  and  informal  tea-party  at  which 
I  had  ever  taken  a  part,  and  my  time  was  fully  occu- 
pied answering  the  questions  of  my  Royal  hosts  and 
their  children  and  guests  as  to  my  methods. 

"  But  how  on  earth  do  you  do  it,  Mr.  Capper?  " 
said  the  Prince.  "  Lady  Ailesbury  declares  she  believes 
you  are  one  of  the  old  Egyptian  magicians  out  of 
the  Book  of  Genesis   come  alive  again  !  " 

"  Magician,  Sir  !  "  cried  the  sharp-eared  old  Mar- 
chioness ;     "I    believe  he   is   the  very  devil  himself  !  " 

"  That,  Lady  Ailesbury,"  said  I,  "is  the  very  finest 
compliment   I   have  ever  had  paid  to   me." 

I  left  the  Royal  party  in  such  ecstatic  spirits  that 
I  almost  felt,  as  I  passed  once  again  through  the 
great  gates  into  Pall  Mall,  as  though  I  walked  on  air. 

Three  days  later  I  received  a  warm  letter  of  con- 
gratulation from  Canon  Wilberforce.  It  is  a  letter 
so   pre-eminently   characteristic   of   the   dear  man   that 


54  ROYAL    MEMORIES 

I    think    I    cannot   do   better  than   quote  one  or   two  of 
its   glowing   sentences. 

"  It  was  a  curious  coincidence,"  he  wrote,  "  but  you  unwittingly 
thinned  for  me  a  gospel  meeting  at  the  Marchioness  of  Ailsa's  ; 
several  who  had  promised  to  attend  received  at  the  last  moment 
a  command  to  Marlborough  House  !  !  !  And  now,  dear  man,  you 
are  on  the  golden  ladder.  '  In  all  times  of  our  prosperity.  Good 
Lord  deliver  us.'  God  help  you  in  the  midst  of  this  most  trying 
life  that  you  will  be  called  upon  to  lead,  never  to  forget  Him,  and 
I  feel  happily  convinced  that  you  mean  to  prove  by  good  example 
that  a  man  can  amuse  and  instruct  others  in  this  world  without 
sinking  to  the  world's   level." 

Some  time  after  the  Marlborough  House  performance 
I  was  asked  by  my  friend  the  Rev.  S.  Woodin,  then 
curate  of  Frimlcy,  in  Surrey,  and  now  Rector  of  Yar- 
mouth, in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  to  give  an  afternoon 
performance  in  the  village  hall  in  aid  of  the  Frimley 
local  cricket  club.  When  I  arrived  at  his  house  for 
luncheon  on  the  appointed  day,  I  found  my  good  clerical 
friend  in  a  state  of  unwonted  excitement.  It  appeared 
that  he  had  just  received  an  intimation  that  the  Empress 
Eugenie,  the  young  Princes  of  Siam,  who  were  being 
educated  at  a  crammer's  hard  by,  the  Duke  and 
Duchess  of  Connaught  and  their  two  daughters,  and 
several  other  distinguished  people,  were  going  to  put 
in  an  appearance  at  the  hall.  He  knew  nothing  for 
certain,  but,  at  all  events,  he  earnestly  trusted  that 
I  was  at  the  top  of  my  form  and  that  I  should  be 
able  to  do  full  justice  to  myself  and  to  such  an 
auspicious  occasion.  As  a  matter  of  fact  the  Empress 
herself  was  unable  to  be  present,  but  she  was  repre- 
sented by  the  Duke  of  Aosta  and  the  Countess  Alva  ; 
the  Siamese  Royalties  were  also  there,  and  just  before 
the  hour  struck  a  very  smart  Royal  equipage  dashed 
up  to  the  door  of  the  modest  little  village  hall  and  out 


ROYAL     MEMORIES  55 

stepped  the  Duchess  of  Connaught  and  her  two  lovely 
daughters,  Princess  Patricia  and  Princess  Margaret 
of  Connaught  (now  Crown  Princess  of  Sweden)  ;  the 
Duke  himself  bicycled  up  almost  immediately  after- 
wards from  Aldershot,  where  he  was  then  in  command, 
accompanied  by  his  A.D.C.,  the  Master  of  Ruthven, 
The  afternoon  was  a  brilliant  success,  mainly  owing 
to  the  fact  that  the  Royalties,  with  their  usual  tact  and 
good  nature,  entered  heart  and  soul  into  the  spirit  of 
the  thing.  Indeed,  the  Duke  took  almost  as  actual 
and  as  prominent  a  share  in  the  proceedings  as  I  did 
myself. 

I  may  here  remark  that  I  sometimes  think  I  owe 
not  a  little  of  my  success  to  the  fact  that  I  not  only 
allow  members  of  my  audience  to  help  me  in  my  work, 
but  I  actually  invite  them  to  do  so — indeed,  I  cannot 
do  without  them  and  their  assistance.  People  are 
always  interested  in  doing  things  themselves.  That  is 
where  the  Dissenters  are  so  clever  and  display  such 
a  knowledge  of  human  nature.  They  always  give  their 
people  place  and  office  and  position  in  their  chapels 
whenever  it  is  possible.  Now  in  this  case  I  had 
to  retrace  the  route  which  had  been  taken  by  my 
Royal  assistant,  whilst  I  was  blindfolded  in  the  ante- 
room. 

On  this  occasion  the  Duke  had  chosen  a  very  difficult 
and  elaborate  route  indeed,  and  so  he  and  I  dashed 
about  all  over  the  place.  We  ran  about  together 
through  the  hall,  in  and  out  of  chairs,  out  of  a  door  at 
one  moment  and  in  at  a  window  at  another  ;  on  the 
platform  and  off  it,  H.R.H.  sometimes  crawling  behind 
me  under  the  grand  piano,  until  we  emerged  at  last, 
amid  the  shouts  of  the  Royalties  and  the  ill-concealed 
joy  of  the  rest  of  the  audience,  covered  with  dust  and 
more    resembling    chimney-sweeps    than   anything   else, 


56  ROYAL    MEMORIES 

when  the  grand  finale  came  and  the  pianist  crashed  out 
the  National  Anthem,  and  the  Duke  and  I  surveyed  the 
audience  and  each  other  with  ill-disguised  merriment 
and  not  a  little  amusement  at  the  appearance  we  pre- 
sented. The  Royal  ladies  drove  away,  whilst  the  Duke 
lingered  for  a  few  minutes  and  tried  to  get  hold  of 
some  sandwiches  for  himself  and  me,  declaring  as  he 
did  so,  "  Mr.  Capper,  you  deserve  a  good  drink  after 
all  your  exertions  ;  here's  a  cigarette  instead — poor  sub- 
stitute, I  fear,  for  a  whisky-and-soda  !  You  have  done 
splendidly,  and  I  trust  it  isn't  the  last  time  we  shall 
meet.      Never  enjoyed  myself  so  much  in  my  life." 

An  hour  or  so  afterwards,  just  as  we  were  sitting 
down  to  dinner,  a  mounted  groom  rode  up  to  the  door 
of  my  friend's  house  and  a  letter  was  brought  in  from 
a  certain  Mrs.  Rollings,  a  great  friend  of  the  Empress 
Eugenie's,  daughter  of  General  J.  H.  Smyth,  C.B., 
and  a  sister  of  the  famous  composer  and  suffragette. 
Dr.  Ethel  Smyth,  in  which  the  writer  said  that  the 
Duke  and  Duchess  had  just  been  having  tea  with  her 
and  that  they  were  "  absolutely  enchanted  "  with  my 
performance,  and  as  they  were  dining  with  the  Empress 
upon  the  following  Thursday  evening  they  were  very 
anxious  that  I  should  go  over  and  repeat  my  per- 
formance. Unfortunately  I  was  engaged  on  that  very 
night  to  give  an  entertainment  for  Archdeacon  Archer- 
Houblon  at  Wantage,  and  I  was  obliged  to  send  a 
refusal  to  Mrs.  Hollings.  Next  morning,  however,  almost 
before  we  had  finished  breakfast,  came  another  mounted 
messenger  from  Mrs.  Hollings  :  "  Can  you  come  any 
other  evening?  All  the  Royalties  are  raving  about  your 
performance,  and  the  Empress  declares  she  must  see 
it  and  you."  I  am  quoting  Mrs.  Holhngs  verbatim,  so 
my  readers  must  not  imagine  that  I  am  trying  to 
"  sneak  "  in  a  gratuitous  advertisement,  although  I  shall 


ROYAL    MEMORIES  57 

be  jolly  glad  if  it  serves  as  one.  So  at  last  I  arranged 
that  I  should  go  over  on  the  following  Saturday  evening. 
I  may  mention  that  this  was  the  first  and  only  occasion 
on  which  Her  Imperial  Majesty  had  ever  given  any- 
thing in  the  shape  of  a  formal  reception  at  Farn- 
borough  since  her  arrival  in  England  in  the  winter  of 
1870,  and  it  still  remains  the  only  occasion  on  which 
such  an  event  has  occurred.  I  stayed  with  Mrs.  Rollings, 
and  after  dinner  we  drove  together  to  the  Em'press's 
house,  where  a  large  party  of  at  least  a  hundred  invited 
guests  were  just  arriving.  I  was  received  at  the  door 
by  the  Due  d'Aosta  and  the  Countess  Alva,  who  had 
been  present  at  and  who  had  much  enjoyed  my  enter- 
tainment at  Frimley.  For  some  time  we  sat  and  talked, 
until  at  last  Mrs.  Hollings,  who  had  been  talking  to  the^ 
Empress  in  the  drawing-room,  came  up  to  me  and 
said,  "  Now,  Mr.  Capper,  I  think  you  had  better  come 
in.  Her  Majesty  is  lying  down,  as  she  has  rather  a 
bad  attack  of  rheumatism."  With  that  Mrs.  Hollings 
led  the  way  to  the  drawing-room  door,  made  way  for 
me  to  pass,  and  as  I  entered  the  brilliantly  illuminated 
room  I  caught  a  glimpse,  at  the  far  end  of  the  room, 
of  the  gracious  and  charming  personality  of  the 
Empress,  whose  career  has  always  been  charged  with 
romance  for  me,  and  seated  on  one  side  of  her  was  the 
Duke  of  Connaught  and  on  the  other  the  Duchess  of 
Connaught.  The  moment  I  appeared  the  Duke  came 
swiftly  up  to  me,  and  with  charming  tact  and  ease  he 
took  me  by  the  hand. 

"  Hullo,  Mr.  Capper  ;  delighted  to  see  you  again  I 
Have  you  got  rid  of  all  that  dust  yet?  My  word  !  you 
did  lead  me  a  dance  under  that  piano  the  other 
day  !  Now  I  must  take  you  and  present  you  to 
the    Empress." 

Down  the  long  room,  between  a  double  line  of  guests,  I 


58  ROYAL     MEMORIES 

solemnly,  and  perhaps  a  little  nervously,  paraded  behind 
the  Duke,  until  at  last  I  stood  in  front  of  the  splendid 
old  lady,  who  graciously  extended  her  hand  to  me,  and 
expressed  the  interest  she  experienced  in  the  prospect 
of  my  performance.  As  she  spoke  in  her  pretty  broken 
EngHsh,  I  could  not  help  my  mind  wandering  back 
down  the  long  avenue  of  years  through  which  she  had 
passed,  a  gay  and  happy  bride,  an  idolized  wife  and 
mother  and  queen,  and  then  the  exile,  bereft  of  hus- 
band, son,  and  crown,  a  figure  of  tragedy  and  pathos, 
but  always  with  an  undefinable  stateliness  and  a  wonder- 
ful atmosphere  of  romance  clinging  about  her. 

After  my  presentation  to  Her  Majesty,  I  started  at 
once  with  the  evening's  entertainment,  the  chief  feature 
of  which  was  the  re-formation  of  a  tableau,  which 
had  been  enacted  during  my  absence  in  another  room, 
whence  I  emerged,  blindfolded  as  usual,  and  set  to 
work.  Both  the  Princesses  of  Connaught  took  part  in 
the  tableau,  which  reproduced,  as  exactly  as  possible 
under  the  circumstances,  a  fine  picture  which  hung  over 
the  Empress's  couch.  It  was  my  duty  to  arrange 
the  performers,  blindfolded  as  I  was,  in  their  proper 
position  and  attitudes,  and  to  place  in  their  hands 
swords   and   spears   or   whatever   else   was    required. 

Loud  applause  followed  when  I  had  finished,  and 
both  the  Empress  and  the  Duke  and  Duchess  declared 
they  had  been  absolutely  enchanted  with  the  whole 
evening. 

"  And  now,  Mr.  Capper,"  said  the  Duke,  taking 
hold  of  my  arm  in  the  friendliest  and  most  natural 
manner  possible,  "  I  couldn't  find  you  a  drink  the 
other  day,  but  you  and  I  will  now  lead  the  way  to  the 
refreshment-room."  Whereupon  we  passed  down  the 
room,  I  having  first  made  my  most  ceremonious  adieux 
to   my   Royal   and    Imperial   hostess,    and    together  the 


ROYAL     MEMORIES  59 

Duke  and  I  had  a  most  delightful  and  welcome  glass 
of  champagne.  I  always  like  to  think  of  a  little 
anecdote  I  heard  about  the  Duke  of  Connaught  when 
I  was  in  Bombay.  Some  years  ago,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered that  the  Duke  was  commanding  the  Forces  there 
during  the  governorship  of  Lord  Reay,  who,  with  the 
late  Marquis  of  Ripon,  enjoys  the  rather  unenviable 
reputation  of  having  been  very  pro-native  in  his 
opinions.  Well,  it  so  happened  that  there  was  a  great 
review,  at  which,  of  course,  the  Governor  took  the 
salute,  the  Duke  riding  at  the  head  of  his  troops. 
During  a  break  in  the  proceedings  the  Governor  fell 
into  a  long,  desultory  conversation  with  the  Bishop, 
and  the  review  was  at  a  standstill.  Suddenly  one  of 
the  generals  galloped  up  to  the  Duke  and  said,  "  What 
shall  we  do  next.  Sir?  "  "I  am  sure  I  don't  know 
what  His  Excellency  wishes/'  sarcastically  replied  the 
Duke  ;    "  you  had  better  ask  the  Bishop  !  " 

I  may  pause  here  a  moment  to  say  that  the  Royalties 
invariably  set  an  example  of  easy,  genial  courtesy  which 
it  would  be  Well  if  people  in  a  less  exalted  position 
would  strive  to  imitate.  For  myself,  I  have  always 
been  most  fortunate  in  the  courteous  treatment  1  have 
received,  whether  my  entertainment  has  been  given  at 
a  public  hall  or  in  a  private  house,  but  many  of  my 
brother  professionals  could  tell  a  very  different  tale,  and 
the  late  George  Grossmith  was  full  of  the  most  amusing 
anecdotes  of  what  he  had  experienced  and  endured 
from  time  to  time  at  the  hands  of  society  or  suburban 
hostesses.  I  will  give  one  instance  of  a  great  friend 
of  mine,  who  was  not  exactly  a  public  entertainer,  but 
who  had  taken  up  as  a  serious  business  the  art  of 
society  photography,  and  who  had  succeeded  so  well 
that  his  photographs  became  famous  throughout  the 
whole   world.      He   received   a  request   one   day   to  go 


6o  ROYAL    MEMORIES 

down  into  the  country  and  take  some  "  At  Home  " 
photos  of  a  leading  City  magnate,  a  very  pompous 
and  overbearing  person,  and  his  even  more  detestable 
wife.  My  friend,  who  was  one  of  the  most  delight- 
ful of  men,  and  who,  I  may  add,  was  related 
to  half  the  peerage,  took  the  photos,  and  was  then 
committed  by  his  hostess  to  the  care  of  the  butler. 
"  Smith,"  said  she,  "  take  this  person  and  give  him 
dinner  in  your  own  room  ;  "  which  the  butler  accord- 
ingly did.  That  evening  at  dinner,  long  after  my 
friend  had  left  the  house  and  gone  back  to  town, 
the  lady  of  the  house  said,  "Did  you  give  the  photo- 
grapher  his   dinner.   Smith,   before   he   left?  " 

*'  Oh  yes,  madam,  and  I  was  very  much  in- 
terested, madam,  to  discover  that  he  was  a  cousin 
of  a  gentleman  I  used  to  be  butler  to  ten  years 
ago  I  •' 

"Oh,  indeed  !  and  who  was  that,  may  I  ask?  " 
languidly  and  haughtily  demanded  this  terrible  person. 
"  A  retired  tradesman,  I  presume  :  astonishing  how 
rich  some  of  these  people  are  1  " 

"  Oh  no,  madam,"  replied  the  butler,  "  no  trade  in 
Mr.  C.'s  family  ;    it  was  the  Duke  of  B I  " 

I  have  appeared  very  frequently  since  those  early, 
days  before  most  of  the  Royalties  of  Europe  in  addi- 
tion to  our  own  much-loved  Royal  Family,  but  it  is 
unnecessary  I  should  weary  my  readers  with  details 
that  after  all  can  be  of  interest  only  to  myself ;  and 
therefore  I  will  conclude  this  chapter  of  my  Royal 
memories  with  an  account  of  my  appearance,  during 
the  reign  of  Queen  Victoria,  in  the  drawing-room  of 
Windsor  Castle.  On  this  occasion  also  it  was  a  purely 
private  and  family  party,  not  more  than  two  dozen 
people,  most  of  them  members  of  the  Royal  families 
of    Europe,    being    present    at    the    performance,    very 


ROYAL     MEMORIES  6i 

much  to  my  own  content.  Her  Imperial  Majesty  the 
Dowager  Empress  of  Germany  was  staying  with  the 
Queen,  and  they  both  interested  themselves  in  the 
general  preparations  for  the  performance,  which  took 
place   in   the   red   drawing-room. 

The  first  thing  I  did  was  to  ask  little  Prince  Maurice 
of  Battenburg,  who  was  killed  at  the  Front  only  the 
other  day,  to  write  down  the  name  of  some  public 
character  and  not  to  let  me  see  what  name  he  wrote. 
This  he  did,  folded  up  the  paper,  and  kept  it  tightly 
clasped  in  his  hand.  He  fixed  his  eyes  on  mine  and  I 
told  him  that  the  first  letter  of  the  Christian  name 
was  "W."  "Quite  right,"  he  replied.  I  then  asked 
him  to  think  if  the  gentleman  was  a  married  man. 
"  No,  I  am  certain  he  is  not,"  replied  the  little  Prince 
with  a  vigour  that  made  us  all  laugh.  But  they  all 
laughed  still  more  when  I  wrote  down  the  name  on 
the  blackboard — "  Sir  William  Harcourt  " — and  I 
turned  to  the  Prince  and  said,  "  Is  that  right.  Sir?" 
and  he  shouted  out,  "Yes,  quite  correct."  The  merri- 
ment was  then  universal,  for,  needless  bo  say,  all  my 
distinguished  audience  were  well  acquainted  with  Lady 
Harcourt.  Later  on  in  the  evening  Lady  Bigge 
"  murdered  "  little  Princess  Ena  of  Battenberg  (now 
the  Queen  of  Spain),  dragging  her  by  her  long  hair  to 
the  grand  piano  in  the  beautiful  red  drawing-room, 
beneath  which  she  cast  the  body.  I  managed  success- 
fully, by  Lady  Bigge's  thinking,  to  do  the  murder 
all  over  again — a  fearful  modern  tragedy  in  the  old 
Castle  which  greatly  amused  all  who  saw  it.  I  believe 
that  this  was  the  very  last  performance  given  at 
Windsor  during  the   reign  of  the  late  Queen. 

I  will  just  hint  at  one  more  of  my  performances 
before  Royalty.  It  took  place  during  the  Boer  War, 
and  was  given  at  Lord  Llangattock's  beautiful  country 


62  ROYAL     MEMORIES 

seat  "  The  Hendre,"  Monmouth,  when  they  entertained 
the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  York,  now  our  King  and 
Queen. 

A  few  days  before  the  eventful  evening  I  was  staying 
with  Mr.  Hall  Caine  at  Greeba  Castle,  in  the  Isle  of 
Man,  and  one  morning  on  opening  the  paper  I  learned 
of  the  death  of  the  late  Prince  Christian  Victor  in  the 
Transvaal.  I  at  once  wired  to  Lord  Llangattock  : 
"  Have  just  read  the  sad  news.  Presume  you  will  not 
require  my  performance  on  Thursday.  Please  wire 
me  here  by   return." 

In  a  few  hours  back  came  the  reply  :  "  Come  with- 
out fail  ;  the  Prince  expecting  you."  All  the  public 
rejoicings  and  festivities  had  been  abandoned  owing 
to  the  telegram  the  Prince  had  received  from  his  father, 
but  my  performance  being  private  still  held  good,  and 
I  was  numbered  amongst  the  guests  of  the  very  small 
house-party  at  "  The  Hendre."  This  party  included, 
if  1  remember  rightly,  in  addition  to  the  Duke  and 
Duchess  of  York,  the  Marquis  of  Abergavenny,  Lady 
Clementine  Walsh  and  her  husband.  Commander  Sir 
Charles  Cust  in  waiting  on  the  Prince,  the  Hon.  Mary 
Lygon  in  waiting  on  the  Princess,  and  a  few  others 
whose  names  I  don't  remember.  1  was  greatly  pleased 
when  Lord  Llangattock  told  me  that  when  he  had  shown 
my  wire  to  the  Prince,  His  Royal  Highness  replied, 
"  Oh  yes,  get  Mr.  Capper  to  come  down,  by  all  means. 
We  needn't  regard  him  as  '  a  public  function  '  !  "  It 
was  so  pre-eminently  a  private  occasion  that  I  don't 
think  there  were  twenty  persons  present  in  all.  I  gave 
my  entertainment  in  the  beautiful  entrance-hall,  and 
the  Prince  and  Princess  were  feverishly  interested  in 
the  violent  exercise  that  Sir  Charles  Cust,  Lady  Clemen- 
tine Walsh,  and  I  indulged  in  during  the  course  of  the 
evening.     Sir  Charles  Cust  was  absolutely  fascinated  by 


ROYAL     MEMORIES  63 

the  performance.  "  Oh,  Capper,"  he  said,  "  I  wish  I 
could  do  what  you  do  !  "  The  Princess  was  particu- 
larly cordial  and  very  emphatic  in  her  appreciation 
of  my  efforts  ;  indeed,  she  shook  hands  three  times 
with  me  ere  we  finally  parted,  and,  as  I  say,  the  per- 
formance was  a  great  success,  and  both  our  present 
King  and  Queen  took  part  in  it  with  the  utmost 
enthusiasm  and  good  feeling.  And  now  I  promise,  if  I 
can  so  contrive  it,  not  to  allude  to  Royalty  in  even 
the  most  distant  manner  any  more  in  this  little  book  of 
mine. 


CHAPTER    VI 

WHAT   IS   THE   OCCULT? 

This  is  a  somewhat  difficult  question  to  answer.  A 
few  years  ago  one  would  have  been  regarded  as  weak- 
minded,  if  not  actually  insane,  had  he  ventured  to  put 
such  a  question,  or  even  to  hint  at  the  possibility  of 
the  existence  of  anything  that  was  not  absolutely 
tangible  and  in  daily  evidence.  But  we  have  travelled 
far  since  that  day,  and  the  researches  of  such  men  as 
Sir  Oliver  Lodge,  Sir  William  Crookes,  the  Rt.  Hon. 
Arthur  Balfour,  and  many  others  have  helped  to  place 
mysticism  on  a  far  higher  and  nobler  plane  than  we 
could  have  imagined  was  possible  fifty  or  even  thirty 
years  ago.  For  the  delicate  mysticism  of  the  refined  and 
cultured  student,  for  the  wonderfully  suggestive  experi- 
ences and  utterances  of  many  of  the  most  trustworthy 
and  scientific  thinkers  o.f  the  day,  I  have  the  most 
profound  respect.  It  is  only  against  the  impudent 
charlatanism  of  its  most  unscrupulous  exponents  that 
1  feel  called  upon  to  inveigh,  and  I  protest,  with  all 
my  soul,  that  such  prostitution  of  what  might  otherwise 
be  devoted  to  the  higher  and  spiritual  welfare  of  man- 
kind degrades  not  only  the  unworthy  professors  of 
so-called  spiritualism,  but  it  drags  the  whole  idea  of 
mysticism  and  the  theory  of  the  spirit  world  through 
the  slough  and  mire  of  the  most  horrible  degradation. 
For  myself,  I  am  absolutely  persuaded  of  the  infinite 
superiority  of  the  spiritual  over  the  material  ;    that  is 


WHAT     IS    THE     OCCULT?  65 

the  basis  of  all  the  religious  truths  that  I  have  imbibed 
from  my  earliest  years  ;  it  certainly  was  the  very 
essence  of  the  Quakerism  of  my  ancestors  and  forbears, 
and  I^  no  less  than  they,  believe  in  the  existence  of 
another  and  higher  world  than  this  and  in  the  probability 
of  the  prolonged  existence  of  the  spirit  of  man  beyond 
this  mere  world  of  passing  shadows.  Indeed,  I  feel 
that  science  itself  helps  to  prove  this  theory  of  an 
after  or  other-world  existence  more  and  more  as  we 
study  the  matter  in  the  light  of  scientific  research. 
And  this  idea  of  the  spiritual  pervades  and  permeates 
the  whole  cosmos — nothing  remains  unaffected  by  it. 
I  realize  that  the  exquisite  chords  of  music  which  weave 
themselves  within  the  brain  of  a  Mozart,  a  Mendelssohn, 
or  a  Chopin,  have  only  been  drawn  down  from  heaven 
and  materialized  on  earth  by  spiritual  means  ;  to  my 
understanding  a  watch  or  a  warship  existed  first  in 
the  spiritual  world  before  it  was  materialized  on  earth 
by  the  art  and  genius  of  the  inventor  and  the  engineer. 
In  short,  it  appears  to  me  that  what  we  see  on  earth 
is  but  the  materialization  of  the  spiritual,  and  where, 
if  ever,  this  materialization  can  or  will  make  an  end, 
it  is  impossible  for  man  to  determine. 

And  this  is  becoming  more  reaHzed  every  day  ;  and, 
indeed,  the  interest  that  is  taken  nowadays  in  the  mystic 
and  the  occult,  and  the  literature  that  is  devoted  to  its 
research  and  its  exploitation,  would  have  astonished, 
even  if  it  had  not  actually  alarmed,  our  far  simpler^ 
minded  and  less  imaginative  progenitors  in  the  days  of 
Nelson  and  the  early  part  of  Queen  Victoria's  reign. 
But  the  fact  remains  that  the  occult  exercises  a  fascina- 
tion at  the  present  moment  which  is  almost  incredible 
to  those  who  have  not  studied  the  question  as  I  have 
been  forced  to  do. 

To    any   one    who   has    not   had   the    opportunity   of 

6 


66  WHAT    IS    THE    OCCULT? 

investigating  the  occult  side  of  modern  life,,  the  amount 
of  mysticism,  psychic  and  necromantic,  which  is  daily 
practised  on  all  sides,  will  come  as  an  astonishing 
revelation.  As  a  student  of  the  mysteries  of  magic^ 
and  of  certain  manifestations  of  hidden  psychic  force, 
I  have  necessarily  been  brought  in  contact  with  many 
of  the  "  things  in  heaven  and  earth  "  which  Hamlet 
could  not  understand.  But  in  this  chapter  J  shall 
simply  state,  absolutely  dispassionately,  those  facts 
which  go  to  prove  that  the  twentieth  century  is  almost 
as  thoroughly  leavened  with  superstition  in  all  its  forms 
as  were  the  European  cities  of  the  Middle  Ages  in  the 
days  of  alchemy. 

All  these  comments,  therefore,  are  made  with  a  per- 
perfectly  unbiased  mind.  The  truth  is  that  the  average 
person  is  extraordinarily  credulous,  and  people  who 
have  seen  things — such  as  the  slate-writing  manifesta- 
tions of  Mr.  Eglinton,  who  was  a  very  prominent 
and  popular  exponent  of  spiritualism  thirty  years  ago — 
manifestations  which  invariably  appeared  to  be  con- 
vincing— immediately  come  to  the  conclusion  that  all 
forms  of  spiritualism  must  be  genuine,  whereas  they 
are  frequently  fraudulent.  Notwithstanding  repeated 
exposures  of  the  charlatans  of  the  business  and  the 
absolutely  convincing  mechanical  explanations  of  Mr. 
Maskelyne,  spiritualism  is  as  rife  nowadays  as  it  ever 
has  been.  My  own  experience  has  been  rather  on  the 
surface,  and  I  am  sure  there  are  many  people  who  have 
gone  more  deeply  into  the  matter  than  I  who  could 
give  more  interesting  impressions  than  those  which  I 
am  going  to  write  about  in  this  chapter. 

I  certainly  have  met  many  people  who  are  ardent 
believers,  but  let  me  at  once  say,  earnestly  and  seriously, 
that  I  have  never  found  it  do  any  person  any  con- 
ceivable  kind   of   good.      It   unhinges   people's   mental 


WHAT    IS    THE     OCCULT?  67 

balance,  as  a  rule.  Emphatically,  it  is  a  subject  best 
left  alone.  This  was  a  point  upon  which  I  had  many- 
conversations  with  the  late  Monsignor  Benson,  and  he 
never  failed  or  hesitated  to  denounce  ordinary 
spiritualism  in  the  most  vigorous  manner. 

A  typical  spiritualistic  seance,  held  in  the  dark,  is 
in  itself  a  temptation  to  dishonesty.  The  medium  sits 
at  the  head  of  the  table.  The  other  members  of  the 
sitting  must  join  'hands,  so  that  the  "  current  "  shall  be 
fully  established.  If  the  spirits  be  propitious,  you 
shall  hear  fearsome  noises  ;  tambourines  noisily  struck 
will  fly  round  the  room  ;  you  will  smell  invisible 
flowers,  and  if  you  are  very  lucky  one  of  the  spirits 
may  consent  to  materialize,  and  you  may  see  (as  I  once 
did)  the  ghost  of  Mozart  rise  from  the  middle  of  the. 
table.  Unfortunately,  I  happened  to  notice  that  his 
eighteenth-century  perruque  was,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
a  rather  dishevelled  modern  English  barrister's  wig. 

It  is  this  kind  of  fraud  which  brings  all  investiga- 
tion into  contempt,  and  makes  one  despair  of  ever 
finding  out  the  truth  for  which  we  are  all  groping  in 
the  dark. 

Much  more  valuable  are  those  seances  which  take 
place  in  broad  daylight.  Many  of  my  readers  will 
remember  the  name  of  Mr.  Eglinton,  whom  I  men- 
tioned a  little  earlier  in  this  chapter  and  who  astonished 
the  world  by  his  wonderful  slate-writing  manifesta- 
tions, conducted  entirely  by  daylight.  Even  Mr.  Glad- 
stone, among  the  many  distinguished  people  who  visited 
Mr.  Eglinton,  expressed  himself  entirely  convinced  of 
his  integrity. 

Having  heard  so  much  about  him,  I  wrote  to  him, 
asking  him  to  give  me  an  opportunity  of  witnessing; 
his  manifestations.  He  replied  courteously,  suggesting 
that   I   should   call  any  morning,   bringing  two  friends 


68  WHAT    IS    THE    OCCULT? 

with  me  ;  he  asked  mc  to  bring  my  own  slates,  but, 
not  wishing  to  appear  incredulous,  I  did  not  do  so. 
He  produced  two  slates,  which  were  placed  together 
horizontally,  with  a  small  piece  of  slate-pencil  lying 
between  them.  Including  Mr.  Eglinton,  there  were 
four  of  us  present,  the  others  being  Oscar  Wilde  and 
my  great  friend  W.  B.  Maxwell,  the  well-known  novelist 
and  son  of  the  great  story-teller  of  our  youth.  Miss 
M.  E.  Braddon,  Each  of  us  held  a  corner  of  the 
slates  what  time  Mr.  Eglinton  went  into  a  trance. 
Nothing  happened,  and  I  did  him  the  injustice  of  think- 
ing that  all  would  have  been  well  if  we  had  paid  him 
for  his  services.  I  wrote  to  him  to  this  effect.  He 
replied  indignantly,  and  we  went  again,  stopping  on 
our  way  to  buy  two  slates  and  a  pencil. 

Under  the  same  conditions  as  those  which  obtained 
at  our  previous  visit  we  commenced  operations.  We 
asked  some  silly  question — to  be  exact,  I  think  it  was, 
"  Is  spiritualism  useful?  "  In  a  few  moments  the 
pencil  was  scribbling  away  at  feverish  speed.  It 
stopped  suddenly  ;  the  slates  were  separated,  and 
written  upon  one  of  them  was  an  answer — I  forget  the 
exact  wording — so  logical,  so  sensible,  that  we  were 
simply  aghast.  Fraud  there  was  apparently  none.  I 
do  not  pretend  to  account  for  the  phenomenon  ;  I 
merely  state  it  as  a  fact.  The  late  Duke  of  Albany 
had  some  slates  specially  prepared  for  Mr.  Eglinton 
with  patent  locks,  but  the  result  on  trial  was  abso- 
lutely satisfactory.  When  I  last  heard  of  him  Mr. 
Eglinton  had  hidden  his  slates  away,  he  had  married, 
and  his  better  half  was  too  charming  to  be  occult. 
But  in  modern  life  there  are  still  to  be  found  many 
practitioners  of  the  uncanny  art  of  spirit  slate-writing. 

Another  form  of  the  "  uncanny  "  which  is  practised 
extensively  in  Bond  Street  and  in  many  provincial  towns 


WHAT    IS    THE     OCCULT?  69 

is  the  art  of  gazing  into  crystals.  Here,  again,  I  have 
a  perfectly  open  mind.  On  the  15th  of  June  1902  I 
was  staying  at  a  rectory  in  the  North  of  England.  At 
lunch  the  question  of  crystal-gazing  was  casually  men- 
tioned. My  host,  the  rector  (the  Rev.  John  Bennett, 
brother  of  the  late  Sir  H.  Curtis  Bennett,  the  well- 
known  London  magistrate),  said  that  one  of  his 
daughters  had  had  curious  experiences  in  the  matter 
with  her  sister.  I  suggested  an  impromptu  experiment. 
The  sherry  was  emptied  from  an  ordinary  decanter,  and 
water  was  substituted  in  its  place.  The  rector's  daughter 
then  asked  me  to  think  of  some  particular  subject  in- 
tently, while  she  looked  into  the  water  from  the  out- 
side of  the  bottle.  Kemp  ton  Park  Races  had  taken 
place  on  the  previous  Saturday,  and  I  was  particularly 
interested  in  a  horse  belonging  to  a  friend  of  mine 
which  had  won  a  race.  (I  need  hardly  say  that  I  had 
not  mentioned  horse-racing  to  my  clerical  friends.)  I 
made  my  thoughts  centre  on  that  particular  event. 
Almost  instantly  she  exclaimed,  "  I  see  a  crowd  of 
people  ;  it  looks  more  like  a  racecourse  than  anything 
else  !  "  This,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  was  a  remarkable 
coincidence  which  I  cannot  explain,  but  that  it  did 
happen  is  an  absolute  fact. 

Clairvoyance  is  largely  practised.  These  people 
either  go  into  a  trance  on  their  own  account  or  are 
first  hypnotized  and  then  fall  into  the  clairvoyant  state. 
I  know  for  a  fact  that  many  intelligent  people,  and 
especially  hard-headed,  unimaginative  business-men — 
racing-men,  of  course,  and  actors  and  soldiers — never 
take  any  important  step  in  life  without  first  consulting 
their  wise  woman.  This  may  seem  incredible,  but  it 
is  true.  My  personal  experience  is  that  some  clair- 
voyants can  read  a  letter  when  held  to  their  forehead^ 
can    tell    the    history    of    any   article    in    the    shape    of 


70  WHAT    IS    THE     OCCULT? 

jewellery  or  otherwise,  can  speak  a  language  quite  un- 
known to  them  when  in  their  normal  state,  and  can 
draw  portraits  of  the  friends  of  the  individual  con- 
sulting them  whom  it  would  have  been  impossible  for 
them  to  know. 

Christian  Science,  the  comparatively  new  religion 
which  has  such  an  enormous  following  in  the  United 
States  and  is  rapidly  gaining  ground  in  this  country, 
borders  on  the  supernatural  ;  but  I  think  it  wiser, 
seeing  that  its  main  tenets  are  founded  upon  Divine 
teaching,  to  do  nothing  more  than  to  allude  to  it  as 
a  crusade  or  a  craze  (which  you  will)  that  is  viewed 
by  many  as  a  very  serious  danger  which  may  have 
to  be  fought  strenuously.  It  is  practically  a  very  high- 
toned  and  sublimated  variant  of  the  creed  of  Peculiar 
People,  who  eschew  medical  aid  and  frequently  find 
themselves  in  the  dock  on  a  charge  of  manslaughter. 

The  form  of  occultism  most  familiar  to  the  average 
individual  is  the  art  of  chiromancy,  palmistry,  or  any 
other  name  you  like  to  call  it.  The  practice  of  it  is 
illegal,  yet  society  flocks  to  gorgeously  furnished  apart- 
ments, where  they  are  told  their  past,  present,  and 
future  by  the  line  of  the  hand.  There  is,  of  course,  a 
certain  amount  of  science  in  the  matter  ;  but  in  my 
humble  opinion  there  is  more  fraud  in  this  branch  of 
occultism  than  in  any  other.  The  palmist,  if  he  or 
she  be  a  clever  physiognomist,  can  guess  more  from 
the  face,  figure,  dress,  and  general  demeanour  of  the 
patient  than  can  be  done  from  the  hand. 

Fortune-telling  by  cards  obtains  in  the  highest  and 
in  the  lowest  class  of  society.  Many  ladies  keep  maids 
by  whom  they  are  quite  contented  to  be  ill-served 
domestically  on  account  of  their  skill  in  this  the  supreme 
art  of  the  gipsy  tribe. 

Many  a  servant -girl  wastes  her  scanty  wages  in  pay- 


WHAT     IS     THE     OCCULT?  71 

ing  some  harridan — who  generally  lives  in  a  garret 
which  has  to  be  reached  by  rickety  stairs — to  tell  her 
fortune  by  a  pack  of  greasy  cards,  or  in  buying  some 
worthless  trinket  which  shall  keep  her  lover  faithful 
to  her.  These  delectable  harpies  are  practically  all 
palmists.  If  they  are  caught,  they  go  instantly  to 
prison  ;  but  the  Bond  Street  practitioners  flourish  like 
the  green  bay-tree. 

The  evidence  of  justice  in  the  matter  is  not  quite 
apparent. 

As  far  as  my  own  thought-reading  is  concerned, 
there  is  nothing  uncanny  about  that,  although,  pre- 
sumably, it  is  a  gift  which  very  few  possess,  other- 
wise I  should  have  more  rivals.  There  is,  however, 
nothing  supernatural  about  my  performances  ;  the 
truth  is  that  I  have  a  power,  as  I  have  stated  in  a 
previous  chapter,  of  adapting  my  mind  consciously  to 
the  will  of  any  other  person.  No  mesmerist,  I  am 
sure,  could  mesmerize  me  ;  but  I  can  in  a  way 
mesmerize  myself  so  that  my  mind  becomes  a  perfect 
blank,  willing  to  receive  the  impressions  of  others. 
Naturally  I  can  always  succeed  better  with  those  who 
have  the  power  of  concentrating  their  thoughts  than 
with  those  who  are  weak-minded  or  of  a  nervous 
disposition. 

To  prove  that  some  people  take  thought-reading  more 
seriously  than  I  do  myself  I  once  suggested  to  a  clergy- 
man that  he  should  allow  me  to  give  an  entertainment 
on  behalf  of  his  parish  charities.  But  this  particular 
parson  replied  as  follows  :  "  I  do  not  take  any  part 
in  promoting  entertainments  for  my  parishioners  such 
as  you  propose,  as  I  do  not  think  such  a  performance 
as  yours  helps  to  advance  the  spiritual  welfare  of  the 
people."  Well,  I  never  said  it  did.  I  may  mention 
that  this  constituted  the  one  sole  instance  of  discourtesy 


72  ^WHAT     IS     THE     OCCULT? 

that  I  have  ever  experienced  during  my  long  career 
as  a  thought -reader.  I  regret  that  it  should  have 
come  from  the  hands  of  a  clergyman  of  the  AngUcan 
Church  ;  but,  of  course,  he  may  for  some  unaccount- 
able reason  have  imagined  that  I  was  a  spiritualist, 
in  which  case  I  don't  think  he  was  so  much  to 
blame. 

To  sum  up.  As  you  will  have  seen,  I  have  trodden 
many  of  the  byways  of  "  the  uncanny  world."  I  am 
convinced  of  the  genuineness  of  many  of  the  seers,, 
sorcerers,  and  mystery -mongers  who  have  come  before 
my  notice.  I  am  equally  convinced  that  a  very  large 
portion  of  the  professors  of  magic  arts  are  the  greatest 
humbugs  in  creation. 

But  neither  the  genuine  mystic  nor  the  quack  is  of 
any  possible  use  to  the  community  in  the  trend  of 
modern  life.  I  hope  none  of  the  readers  of  this  chapter 
may  be  tempted  to  dabble  in  uncanny  matters.  From 
my  experience  the  study  of  spiritualism  has  never 
brought  anybody  happiness  ;  it  works  havoc  with  the 
nerves  of  sensitive  people,  and  to  many  it  has  brought 
untold  misfortune,  misery,  and  unrest,  and  what  is  even 
more  horrible  is  that  it  has  landed  many  of  its  unfor- 
tunate devotees  in  the  lunatic  asylum,  and  sometimes 
actually  in  the  cemetery.  At  the  same  time,  I  do 
not  wish  to  bear  with  undue  harshness  upon  believers 
in  mysticism  and  spiritualism  ;  I  would  only  urge  upon 
them  the  necessity  for  great  care  in  their  quest  of  the 
occult.  What  we  have  to  bring  to  the  study  of  the 
occult,  if  we  really  must  indulge  in  it,  is,  as  much  as 
possible,  the  keenly  scientific  mind,  which,  seeking  to 
prove  all  things,  retains  only  the  good  and  rejects  the 
evil  or  absurd. 

iWe  must,  after  all,  before  we  too  heartily  condemn 
the   fanatic   in   mysticism,    remember    that   the   passing 


WHAT    IS    THE     OCCULT?  T^i 

years  have  brought  about  a  marvellous  change  in  the 
human  mind^  and  especially  in  those  countries  wherein 
a  lofty  pitch  of  civilization  has  been  attained,  and 
with  a  large  portion  of  the  community  there  is  an 
absolute  craving  after  the  spiritual.  And  in  a  curious 
but  very  definite  fashion  I  can  trace  this  change  of 
thought  and  life,  and  even  of  character,  not  only  to 
the  influence  of  the  spiritual  and  the  mystic  upon  the 
merely  material,  but  even  more  to  the  subtle  and 
curious  connection  that  links  together  mechanism  and 
mentality.  Mechanism,  as  I  have  already  hinted  at,  is 
but  the  spiritual  materialized,  and  the  uncanny  humanity 
of  the  machinery  on  the  Panama  Canal,  for  instance, 
vividly  illustrates  the  curiously  sympathetic  connection 
that  frequently  exists  between  man,  the  Creator,  and 
the  engine  he  has  created. 

And  there  is  another  point  I  would  indicate — and  I 
crave  my  readers'  pardon  for  so  briefly  and  casually 
sketching  out  what  are,  after  all,  but  the  crudest  ideas 
upon  a  vast   and  mighty   subject — and   it   is   this  : 

There  is  an  enormous  difi"erence  between  the  point 
of  view  of  the  modern  Londoner  and  that  of  his  simple- 
minded  great-grandfather  who  fought  at  Trafalgar  or 
iVVaterloo,  which  is  well  demonstrated,  for  instance,  by 
the  vast  difference  in  the  kind  and  quality  and  class 
of  literature  or  drama  that  appeals  to  the  man  of  to- 
day and  that  wliich  appealed  to  the  man  of  a  century 
ago.  Take  the  audience  that  sits  enthralled  at  a  closely 
knit  and  deeply  introspective  and  psychological  play 
upon  the  stage  to-day.  Such  a  play  would  not  only 
have  bored  a  Waterloo -hero  audience  stiff,  but  it  would 
absolutely  have  had  no  meaning  for  them  ;  it  would 
have  been  sheerly  impossible  and  incomprehensible,  for 
the  simple  reason  that  it  would  have  demonstrated 
emotions  and  theories  and  habits  of  life  that  were  not 


74  WHAT    IS    THE     OCCULT? 

even   existent    in   those   now   unimaginably   and   incon- 
ceivably simple-minded  days. 

But  then  we  must  remember  the  conditions  under 
which  we  are  living.  We  are  living  in  a  world 
etherialized  and  made  romantic  by  science  !  A  few 
years  ago  science  and  romance  were  regarded  as  anti- 
pathetic and  each  as  the  very  antithesis  of  the  other  ; 
to-day  the  marvels  of  wireless  and  the  cinematograph 
and  the  aeroplane  have  proved  to  us  that  romance  is 
not  only  not  dead,  but  that,  far  more,  it  is  only  in  its 
infancy.  It  is  science,  of  which  our  forefathers  knew 
and  realized  and  imagined  so  little,  that  is  daily  con- 
verting the  world  into  a  palace  of  romance,  a  fairy- 
land of  unimaginable  charm  and  delight.  And  then 
again,  closely  in  connection  with  the  last  idea,  come 
the  curious  mechanical  and  electrical  contrivances  by 
which  we  are  surrounded  on  all  sides  and  which  are 
absolutely  revolutionizing  the  whole  life  of  civilization. 
The  audience  at  a  London  theatre  in  1 8 1  5  differed  in 
toto  ccelo  from  the  audience  at  the  Palace  Theatre 
to-day. 

But  it  was  not  as  stupendously  dominated  by  elec- 
tricity as  we  are.  Do  you  realize  that  we  have  spread 
all  over  London,  and  underground  also,  a  sy-stem  of 
telegraphy  and  telephony  and  illumination  and  locomo- 
tion which  impregnates  the  very  atmosphere  and  which 
is  possibly  responsible  in  part  for  the  ultra-sensitive- 
ness and  hypercriticism  and  delicate  introspectiveness 
and  extraordinary  sentimentality  of  the  modern  dwellers 
in  great  cities?  Do  you  realize  that  a  vast  spirit  world 
which  we  ourselves  have  conjured  up  and  brought  into 
a  very  tangible  existence  out  of  the  calm  blue  now 
broods  over  the  greatest  city  in  the  world?  A  spirit 
world  of  electricity  which  flashes  across  humanity  the 
thoughts   and  emotions,   the  passions   and  the  theories, 


WHAT    IS    THE     OCCULT?  75 

and  the  commercial  correspondences  of  a  vast  com- 
munity. I  do  not  deem  it  at  all  impossible  that  the 
mechanical  and  electrical  contrivances  of  to-day  have 
enormously  lent  themselves  to  the  mental  and  spiritual 
development  of  modem  men  and  women.  All  this  is, 
of  course,  the  purest  imagination  on  my  part,  and  very 
probably  it  possesses  no  scientific  basis  or  value  what- 
ever, but  it  is  always  interesting  to  indulge  in  specu- 
lative theories  as  to  the  "  why  "  and  the  "  wherefore  " 
of  the  unexplained  mysteries  of  human  existence.  My 
whole  argument  simply  is  that,  if  we  feel  ourselves 
called  upon  to  dive  deeply  into  the  mysteries  of  the 
spirit,  and  to  search  out  the  secrets  of  the  unrevealed 
world  of  spirit,  which  every  thoughtful  man  and  woman 
must  reaUze  exists  around  and  about  us,  we  should 
only  do  so  in  the  most  reverent  and  at  the  same  time 
in   the   most   scientific   manner   possible. 


4 
CHAPTER    VII 

CASSOCK  AND   COMEDY 

This  chapter  is  mainly  concerned  with  the  say- 
ings and  doings  of  a  few  of  the  vast  number  of 
clerics  of  all  sorts  and  conditions  and  of  almost  every 
conceivable  sect  that  I  have  met  during  my  long  and 
varied  career.  For  parsons  are  almost  invariably  in- 
teresting, and,  when  they  are  not  exasperating,  they 
are  often  extraordinarily  amusing. 

The  late  Bishop  of  London  (Dr.  Creighton)  declared 
indeed  that  the  clergy  of  the  Church  of  England  were 
the  queerest  people,  as  a  class,  of  which  he  knew. 

But  I  shall  not  confine  myself  to  the  Anglican  clergy 
only,  of  whom  I  always  consider  Anthony  Trollope 
who,  when  he  created  Archdeacon  Grantley,  had  never 
met  an  archdeacon  in  his  life,  gives  the  finest  portraits. 
Each  of  his  famous  clerics— Bishop  Proudie  and  his 
very  clerical  wife,  the  Warden  of  Barchester  Alms 
Houses,  Dr.  Grantley  himself,  the  Vicar  of  Framley, 
each  of  these  men  presents  an  immortal  type  of  the 
mid-Victorian  cleric  which  has  never  been  surpassed 
by  any  writer,  English,  American,  or  continental.  I 
speak  from  vast  experience  of  the  clergy,  and  I  am 
convinced  I  am  right  when  I  describe  them  as  amongst 
the  most  interesting  and  the  most  typically  national 
people  in  our  midst.  A  country  vicar  is,  I  think,  the 
most   Enghsh   thing   that  we   can   possibly  imagine. 

And  then,  of  course,  there  is  the  Dissenting  parson. 


CASSOCK    AND    COMEDY  -]■] 

of  whom  I  have  neither  such  a  wide  experience  nor 
of  whom  do  I  carry  away  with  me  such  delightful 
memories.  Still,  he  also  is  of  his  class  and  his  country 
a  perfect  type. 

The  Catholic  priests  whom  I  have  encountered,,  and 
of  whom   I    shall   briefly  speak  in  these  reminiscences, 
are     also,     each    of    them,     sai    generis,     and    there- 
fore   well    worth    meeting    and    writing    about.       One 
thing    also    I    have    noted    in    my    dealings    with    the 
typical  English  clergyman,    especially  if  he  is  a  High 
Churchman,    and    that    is    the    curiously   and   definitely 
formative  influence  of   Anglicanism  upon  the  ordinary 
cleric.      It   is    quite   as   distinct   in   its   way   as   that  of 
Romanism,  and  it  differentiates  a  man  from  his  fellows 
in  a  manner  that  lends  both  interest  and  distinction  to 
his   personality.      The    strictly   Anglican   point  of  view 
may    be    somewhat    narrow    and    restricted,    but    it    is 
invariably    just    and    discriminating.       It    carries    with 
it  the  conviction  that,  as  was  once  obsers^ed,  the  Church 
of  England  is,   for  Englishmen  at  all  events,  the  only 
form   of   religion   that   is   really   strictly   in  consonance 
with   the    traditions    and   bringing-up   of   a   gentleman. 
One  of  the  most  curiously  distinctive  and  outstanding 
figures  in  the  modern  Anglican  world  is  that  of  my  very 
very  old  and   dear  friend   the  Rev.    and   Hon.    James 
Adderley — a  son  of   the   first  Lord   Norton.      His   is   a 
striking  and  charming  personality  and  very  arresting, 
partly  on  account  of  the  fact  that,  though  the  son  of  a 
peer    and   himself   an   advanced    High    Churchman,    he 
is   one   of   the   most   vehement   Socialists    I    have   ever 
met,  a  vigorous  preacher,  and  an  enthusiastic  exponent 
of    all    that    is    most    prominent    in    the    teachings    of 
Christ,  which  at  times,  I  fear,  he  finds  difficult  to  recon- 
cile   with    the    doctrines    and    practice    of   his    beloved. 
Church.       "  Father  "    Adderley    frequently    garbs    him- 


78  CASSOCK   AND    COMEDY 

self  in  a  semi-monastic  habit,  and  it  was  clad  in  this 
dress  one  day,  a  good  many  years  ago,  that  he  accom- 
panied me  to  the  very  last  meeting  that  was  held  in 
London  by  that  egregious  preacher  and  seeker  after 
the  money-bags — the  late  "  Profit  "  Dowie,  a  man  of 
vigorous  and  somewhat  unpleasant  personality.  St. 
Martin's  Hall,  on  that  occasion,  was  crowded  with 
medical  students,  who  had  assembled  in  force  to  resent 
an  attack  that  Dowie  had  made  upon  the  whole  medical 
profession.  In  the  middle  of  his  harangue  I  got  up 
and  shouted  out,  "  Dr.  Dowie,  you  say  you  detest 
money?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  venerable,  white-bearded 
"  Profit  "  garbed  in  a  Bishop's  rochet  and  surplice 
and  presenting  a,  most  imposing  appearance, — "  yes,  I 
loathe    filthy   lucre." 

"  Then  I  presume^"  I  went  on,  "  that  there  will  be 
no    collection   to-day?  " 

Springing  to  the  front  of  the  platform  the  aged 
man,  powerful  and  agile  for  all  his  seventy  years 
or  so,  furiously  shook  his  fist  and  yelled  out  at  me — 
the  last,  the  very  last  words  he  ever  spoke  in  public  in 
London,  "  Sit  down,  you  stink- pot  !  "  This  let  all  hell 
loose,  if  I  may  so  express  myself.  The  "  medicals  " 
stormed  the  platform,  and  in  the  confusion  of  the 
moment  Adderley  and  I  escaped  into  the  comparative 
calm  of  the  London  streets. 

"  Come  to  the  Sports  Club  and  have  some  tea/'  I 
said. 

"  Oh  no,"  replied  the  good  "  Father,"  "  I  haven't 
been  in  a  London  Club  for  years." 

"  Never  mind,  come  along,"  I  cried  as  I  took  him  by 
the  arm  and  forced  him  down  Pall  Mall  at  my  side. 
As  we  sat  drinking  our  tea  at  the  Club,  in  a  quiet 
corner  of  which  at  the  moment  we  were  the  sole  occu- 


CASSOCK    AND    COMEDY  79 

pants,  an  ultra-sporting  man,  carrying  the  latest  edition 
of  the  Star  in  his  hand,  dashed  into  the  room. 

"  Hullo,  Capper,  old  chap  !  "  he  cried.  "  Have  you 
spotted  a  winner  to-day?  " 

I  was  rather  annoyed  and  a  good  deal  disconcerted 
at  being  asked  such  a  question  at  such  a  moment,  and 
I  hurriedly  introduced  Father  Adderley.  My  dear  old 
sporting  friend  was,  however,  so  engrossed  in  trying 
to  pick  out  the  4.30  winner  that  he  scarcely  responded 
to  Adderley's  bow,  and  I  don't  think  he  even  caught 
his  name.  Now  it  so  happened  I  had  just  been  reading 
Adderley's  recently  published  novel  "  Stephen  Remarx," 
and  I  said  to  him,  "  Have  you  been  writing  any  more 
books   lately?  " 

"  Oh,"  replied  the  "  Father,"  "  I  am  writing  a  Life 
of  St.    Francis   Xavier." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake  don't  you  have  anything  to  do 
with  him  !  "  cried  my  old  friend,  to  our  speechless 
astonishment.  "  I  have  been  backing  his  horses  all 
this  season  and  not  spotted  a  winner  yet.  He's  an 
awful   rotter." 

"  What  on  earth  do  you  mean,  Jack?  "  said  I. 
"  Father  Adderley  is  writing  a  book  on  St.  Francis 
Xavaer." 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  replied  the  hard-headed, 
hard-drinking  old  chap,  who  had  most  assuredly  never 
heard  of  the  famous  mediseval  saint  in  all  his  life  ;  "I 
thought  your  friend  said   '  Bob   Sievier  '  !  " 

I  feel  sure  no  one  on  earth  will  appreciate  this 
delightful  story  more  than  Mr.  Sievier  himself.  I 
have  often  longed  to  meet  him  and  tell  it  to  him  in 
person. 

One  of  the  most  wildly  interesting  figures  I  have 
ever  met,  in  any  portion  of  the  community,  and  cer- 
tainly in  the  ecclesiastical  world,  was  the  late  Father 


8o  CASSOCK    AND    COMEDY 

Ignatius,  who  for  years  was  one  of  the  most  popular 
figures  in  London  society,  and  indeed  all  over  the 
country.  Punch  in  the  early  'sixties  was  greatly  in- 
trigued and  excited  over  the  doings  of  the  Plymouth 
curate  who  insisted  upon  reviving  in  his  own  picturesque 
personality  the  Roman  Order  of  St.  Benedict.  This, 
as  is  witW  known,  he  actually  did.  He  was  a  most 
charming  and  lovable  person,  and  never  failed  to  win 
wherever  he  was  allowed  to  preach,  for  he  was  sincere, 
and  men  love  sincerity.  He  was  the  soul  of  charity,  the 
very  incarnation  of  love,  and  yet  withal  curiously  prac- 
tical and  commonsense.  He  was  an  amalgam  of 
saintliness  and  worldly  wisdom  ;  a  dove  at  one 
moment,  he  was  a  serpent  the  next  ;  he  was  so  astute 
you  could  never  hope  to  get  the  better  of  him,  and  yet 
you  always  loved  him,  A  man  of  great  eloquence, 
vivid  imagination,  and  with  a  remarkable  gift  of  re- 
partee, woe  be  to  any  pne  who  dared  to  interrupt  him 
in  the  middle  of  an  address.  He  was  often  interrupted 
at  outdoor  meetings,  but  he  would  put  any  one  on  his 
back  in  a  second — meta,phorically  on  his  back,  that 
is.  As  a  young  curate  he  was  ever  putting  into  practice 
the  most  stringent  doctrine  of  the  Christian  faith,  some- 
times greatly  to  the  dismay  of  less  rigid  followers  of 
the  Golden  Rule. 

Many  years  ago  he  was  assisting  my  dear  old  friend 
the  Rev.  G.  R.  Prynne  in  Plymouth,  where  he  lived 
with  the  Vicar  and  Mrs.  Prynne  at  the  Vicarage.  One 
winter  night  Ignatius,  the  Rev.  Arthur  Leycester  Lyne 
as  he  then  was,  was  returning  from  church  when  lie 
met  a  perfectly  filthy  and  deplorable  creature,  a  regular 
music-hall  or  cinematograph  tramp.  The  man  stopped 
and  begged  alms  for  a  night's  lodging.  "  Oh,  you 
poor  fellow  !  "  cried  the  youthful  curate.  "  Here,  you 
must  have  my   bed."     And   forthwith  he   stole  up  the 


CASSOCK    AND    COMEDY  8i 

Vicarage  staircase^  thrust  his  tramp  friend  into  the 
dainty  bedroom  and  himself  spent  the  night  in  the 
summer-house  in  the  garden.  Imagine  the  horror  of 
Mr,  Prynne's  smart  housemaid  when  she  took  Mr. 
Lyne's  shaving-water  into  his  bedroom  next  morning 
and  found  the  foul  and  disgusting  tramp  snugly 
ensconced  between   those   dainty    sheets  1 

I  first  met  the  Father  under  most  piquant  and 
amusing  conditions.  He  had  arranged  to  preach  a 
special  sermon  at  the  Rev.  H.  R.  Haweis's  church,  and 
Mr.  Haweis  had  also  most  generously  promised  him 
the  collection — a  really  notable  act  of  self-denial  on 
his  part,  as  when  Ignatius  preached  in  those  days, 
thirty  years  ago,  London  society,  men  and  women  alike, 
flung  watches,  brooches,  rings,  jewellery,  ear-rings,  etc., 
together  with  cheques,  hank-notes,  and  gold  galore 
into  the  collection  plate.  I  arrived  just  in  time  to  hear 
Father  Ignatius,  a  singularly  picturesque  figure  clad 
in  his  monkish  garb,  giving  out  his  text,  which  he  did 
as   follows  : 

Gazing  round  the  church,  he  said,  ''Joanna!  that 
is  my  text  ;  Joanna,  that  is  all  ;  Joanna,  pure  and 
simple.  None  of  you  have  ever  heard  of  her  probably, 
because  very  few  of  you  ever  read  your  Bibles,  so  I 
must  tell  you,  you  poor  ignorant  creatures.  Ah  !  I  am 
going  to  call  you  worse  things  than  that  before  I  have 
finished  !  But  now  I  must  tell  you  who  Joanna  was. 
But  do  read  your  Bibles  more.  How  can  you  get  to 
heaven  or  deserve  to  or  expect  to  if  you  don't  read  the 
'  Bradshaw  '  that  only  can  get  you  there?  Joanna 
was  the  wife  of  Chusa  Herod's  steward — a  wife,  yes, 
but  a  bad  woman.  In  fact,  my  dear  friends,  to  speak 
quite  plainly,  she  was  a  harlot.  Yes,  you  shudder  at 
the  word,  but  the  old  Bible  has  even  worse  and  harsher 
words  than  that,  and  we  needn't  be  more  refined  than 

7 


82  CASSOCK    AND    COMEDY 

the  Bible.  The  Bible  is  good  enough  for  me  !  How- 
ever, let  that  pass.  I  have  no  doubt  there  are  many- 
Joannas  here  to-day.  London  is  full  of  Joannas,  north, 
south,  east,  and  west,  but  especially  west."  And  then 
he  proceeded  to  deliver  a  most  powerful  and  moving! 
exhortation,  so  touching  and  pathetic  in  many  parts 
was  it  that  even  the  men  in  his  congregation  were  in 
tears.  After  the  sermon,  by  pre-arrangement  with 
Mr.  Haweis,  I  betook  myself  to  the  vestry.  Here  I 
found  the  two  clerics  busily  engaged  in  counting  the: 
enormous  collection  ;  so  busy  indeed  and  so  entranced 
were  they  with  their  occupation  that  Mr.  Haweis  was 
scarcely  able  to  find  time  to  mutter  a  word  of  intro- 
duction, whilst  as  for  the  Rev.  Father  he  was  absolutely 
and  entirely  oblivious  of  my  humble  presence.  As  the 
Father  took  up  handfuls  of  gold  and  silver  and  bank- 
notes and  any  amount  of  jewellery,  and  swept  them  into 
his  little  handbag,  I  detected  an  envious  glitter  in 
Mr.   Haweis's  eyes. 

"  I  am  most  delighted  to  have  had  the  oppo,rtunity 
of  appearing  in  your  church  to-day,  Mr.  Haweis," 
said  Ignatius,  as  he  swept  heaps  of  money  into 
the  gaping  bag.  "  I  shall  be  delighted  to  come 
again  !  " 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  will,  Father,"  returned  the 
really  aggravated  Haweis,  "  and  so  you  shall — on 
terms  !  " 

"  What  do   you   mean?  "  said  Father  Ignatius. 

"  Exactly  what  I  say.  Father,"  replied  Mr.  Haweis. 
"  It  seems  to  me  that,  judging  by  what  I  see  to-day,  I 
shall  do  very  badly  next  Sunday,  so  I  am  going  to 
make  a  business  proposition.  I  will  advertise  the  ser- 
vice and  get  you  in  your  congregation  ;  you  shall 
preach,  and  we  will  halve  the  collection  !  " 

"  Oh   no,    thank    you,"    replied   the   very   ready   and 


CASSOCK    AND    COMEDY  83 

astute  monk,  "  I  don't  do  business  in  that  way  ;  with 
me,  it's  all  or  nothing." 

"  Then  it's  Nothing  !  "  replied  the  indignant  Haweis. 
"  Good  morning." 

A  year  or  twD  later,  at  his  special  invitation,  being 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Llanthony  Abbey^  where  Father 
Ignatius  spent  so  many  years  of  his  romantic  and  some- 
what feverish  life,  I  paid  him  a  visit  among  the  lonely 
Welsh  hills.  It  was  exactly  as  though  one  had  stepped 
right  back  into  the  Middle  Ages.  To  begin  with^ 
the  situation  is  very  lonely  and  romantic,  and  the 
Abbey  stands  far  from  the  haunts  of  men.  As  I 
drove  up  to  it  one  sweet  summer  evening  and  the 
throbbing  of  the  Vesper  bell  stole  down  the  long, 
lovely  valley,  one  might  almost  have  pictured 
oneself  as  taking  a  part  in  one  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott's  novels,  and  the  illusion  was  heightened  when 
I  descried  the  venerable  figure  of  the  old  Prior  of  the 
Abbey,  Father  Ignatius  himself,  waiting  to  welcome 
me  in  the  red  blaze  of  glory  that  S'treame<i  from  the 
setting  sun  and  that  was  reflected  in  a  myriad  glitter- 
ing panes  that  caught  the  light  in  the  windows  of  the, 
magnificent  Abbey  Church.  A  few  monks  were  tossing 
hay  upon  the  hillside,  and  as  we  stood  together,  gide 
by  side,  a  band  of  farmers  and  their  wivQs  and  children 
passed  within  the  splendid  doors  of  the  great  church, 
and  the  tones  of  an  organ,  superbly  played,  boomed 
out  in  long-drawn,  sonorous  chords  through  the 
evening     calm. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  I  was  awakened  by  the 
chanting  of  the  monks  as  they  passed  from  their  cells 
to  keep  some  midnight  vigil  in  front  of  the  High  Altar, 
and  once  again,  as  the  silence  of  the  hills  was  broken 
by  the  tinkling  on  the  mountain-side  of  some  far-Oiflf 
sheep-bell,   it   appeared   to  me  as  though   I   had  gone 


84  CASSOCK    AND    COMEDY 

back  to  the  primitive  and  pristine  life  of  Plantaganet, 
Norman,  or  even  Saxon  England.  Next  morning,  after 
I  had  finished  my  lonely  but  very  admirably  prepared 
breakfast  in  my  cell,  Father  Ignatius  asked  me  to  come 
for  a  walk  with  him.  We  talked  of  many  things  and 
of  many  people,  and  I  was  astonished  at  his  extra- 
ordinary range  of  knowledge,  his  wide  experience  of 
human  life,  and  his  broad-minded  Catholicity  which 
embraced  every  kind  of  person,  not  only  as  acquaint- 
ance but  often  as  valued  friend  and  comrade.  Fof 
instance,  I  well  remember  his  saying  to  me,  "  Capper, 
can  you  guess  who  was  my  dearest  friend?  "  and  I 
replied,   "  No,  Father,   I  am  sure  I  can't." 

"  Oh,"  he  most  unexpectedly  answered,  "  it  was 
Charles  Bradlaugh.  I  loved  that  man,  but,"  he  added 
with  apparent  inconsequence,  though  I  could  follow  his 
train  of  thought  well  enough,—"  but  I  could  tear  Charles 
Gore  limb  from  limb." 

Peace  to  dear  Ignatius's  ashes  ;  I  loved  the  man,  and 
I  shall  never  cease  to  regret  his  passing. 

Talking  of  Wales  reminds  me  that  I  once  dined  at 
Llandaff  with  the  Dean,  the  famous  Dr.  Vaughan.  Dr. 
Vaughan  has  endeared  himself  to  the  memory  of 
Hiundreds  of  clergymen,  many  of  whom,  of  course,  are 
doing  good  and  earnest  work  to-day,  but  who  were 
popularly  known  thirty  years  ago  as  "  Vaughan's 
Lambs."  A  delightfully  humorous  story  is  told  of  Dr. 
Vaughan.  He  had  been  delivering  a  course  of  theo- 
logical lectures  to  a  class  of  young  black  mien  whom 
he  was  preparing  to  be  missionaries.  At  the  end  of 
the  course  he  invited  the  whole  class  to  come  and  dine 
with  him  the  following  Wednesday  evening.  On  the 
appointed  night  the  Dean  stood  on  his  hearthrug  waiting 
for  his  young  guests.  Eight  o'clock  came,  no  guests  ; 
a  quarter-past  eight,  still  no  guests.     At  half -past  eight 


CASSOCK    AND    COMEDY  85 

the  Dean  rang  the  bell,  and  when  the  butler  appeared 
he  said  : 

"  It's  an  extraordinary  thing,  Smith,  that  none  of 
these    gentlemen    have   appeared  1  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Dean,  sir,"  replied  the  butler  ;  "  but 
what  is  still  more  extraordinary  is  that  I  have  done 
nothing  all  the  evening  but  turn  away  Christy  Minstrels 
from   the  door!  " 

I    remember   that   that   night  amongst  the  guests  at 
the   Deanery   was   a   very   bright  and  interesting   little 
Colonial    Bishop — Dr.     Knight-Bruce,    the    Bishop    of 
Mashonaland.      He  told  us  a  delightful  story,  and  he 
told   it   to   us   under   compulsion  from   us    all,   and   so 
modestly    that    no    one    could    possibly   accuse    him   of 
anything  like  unseemly  boasting,  though  it  was  the  story 
of  an  incident  that  greatly  commended  him  to  his  whole 
diocese,    and    that    won    for    him    many    friends    and 
admirers  and  greatly  added  to  the  number  of  adherents 
to  the  AngUcan  Church  in  South  Africa.     He  had  been 
preaching  on  the  famous  and  often  much  misunderstood 
text  which  bids  us  to  turn  the  other  cheek  to  him  who 
has  smitten  us  on  the  face.     During  the  course  of  the) 
following   week   he  met   a   bullying   Boer   farmer,   who 
grossly   insulted    him    and   then   smacked   him   on   the 
face.     "  Now,"  cried  he  to  the  Bishop,  "  turn  the  other 
cheek  and  I'll  smack  that  too."     The  Bishop  meekly 
did  as  he  was  told,  and  the  Boer  caught  him  an  awful 
crack  on  that  side  of  his  face  also.      Then  he  turned 
to  go  away.      "  Wait  a  minute,"  quietly  remarked  the 
little    Bishop,    taking    off    his    coat    as    he    spoke    and 
hanging  it  up   on  the  bough  of  a  neighbouring  tree.. 
"  There   now,   that's  the   Bishop  ;    he's   done  his   duty. 
Here's   Knight-Bruce  in  his   shirt-sleeves — come   on  1  " 
Half  an  hour  later  they  took  that  Boer  home  on  a 
wheelbarrow  1 


86  CASSOCK    AND    COMEDY 

Henry  Carey  Shuttleworth,  in  the  'eighties  and  'nine- 
ties of  the  last  century,  was  a  very  prominent  figure  in 
London  ecclesiastical  circles,  and  he  was  one  of  my 
dearest  friends.  I  was  on  the  committee  of  his  church 
council  at  St.  Nicolas  Cole  Abbey,  in  the  City,  for 
eight  years,  and  during  the  whole  of  that  time  there 
was  scarcely  a  Sunday  evening  when  I  didn't  have 
supper  at  the  Vicarage  in  his  delightful  and  inspiring 
company,  Shuttleworth  was  pre-eminently  a  man's 
parson  ;  he  was  an  Oxford  man,  and  the  most  curious 
and  typically  modern  combination  of  High  Churchism 
and  latitudinarianism  that  one  could  possibly  imagine. 
He  would  have  been  absolutely  incomprehensible,  on 
the  one  hand,  to  a  Keble,  a  Pusey,  or  a  John  Henry 
Newinan,  whilst  a  Henry  Venn  or  a  Daniel  Wilson,  or 
any  of  the  famous  and  typical  evangelical  lights  of 
the  'fifties  and  'sixties,  would  have  regarded  him  with 
mingled  horror,  indignation,  and  dismay.  But,  as  I 
say,  he  was  a  hero  amongst  men,  and  he  did  a  great 
work  whilst  at  St.  Paul's.  Most  assuredly  he  had 
his  own  special  niche  and  work  in  the  all-embracing 
Church  of  Laud,  Lancelot  Andrewes,  George  Herbert, 
Frederick  W.  Robertson,  Charles  Kingsley,  Frederick 
Denison  Maurice,  and  Mr.  Webb  Peploe.  Thank  God, 
they  were  and  are  all  good  men,  and  Shuttleworth  was 
one  of  the  best  of  them,  and  there  is  room  for  them  all. 

One  night  I  took  him  as  a  fellow-guest  of  mine  to 
a  semi-public  dinner  in  connection  with  the  licensing 
trade,  Shuttleworth  and  myself  being  the  only  people 
present  who  were  not  actually  connected  with  the  trade. 
As  a  special  compliment  to  his  cloth  his  health  was 
proposed  by  the  chairman  and  drunk  amid  vast  enthu- 
siasm ;  and  I  can  quite  well  remember  his  reply,  which 
was  as  spontaneous  as  it  was  genuine  and  heartfelt. 
It  was  as  follows  : — 


CASSOCK   AND    COMEDY  87 

"  Mr.  Chairman  and  gentlemen, — I  am  delighted  as  a 
parson  to  stand  in  your  midst  to-night.  I  know  there 
are  many  men  of  my  cloth  who  appear  to  take  absolute 
pleasure  in  vilifying  your  honourable  trade,  but,  gentle- 
men, I  turn  to  Holy  Writ  and  I  read  of  the  Good 
Samaritan  carrying  the  wounded  man  by  the  wayside 
to  an  inn,  and  I  am  quite  sure,  gentlemen,  it  was  not 
a  temperance  hotel.  And  I  read  that  that  great  man 
St.  Paul  advised  his  old  friend  to  take  a  little  wine  for 
his  stomach's  sake,  and  I  am  quite  sure,  gentlemen, 
that  he  didn't  intend  it  for  outward  application  !  And 
I  am  quite  sure  that  when  the  Psalmist  referred  in 
such  glowing  terms  to  the  wine  that  maketh  glad  the 
heart  of  man  he  had  never  even  heard  of  such  dreadful 
drinks  as  lemonade  or  barley-water." 

Great  applause,  in  the  middle  of  which  H.  C. 
Shuttleworth   resumed  his   seat. 

Last  year  George  Bernard  Shaw  created  somewhat 
of  a  sensation — which,  of  course,  he  loved  to  do — by 
somewhat  unnecessarily  putting  that  filthy  and  ridiculous 
word  "  bloody  "  in  the  mouth  of  the  heroine  of  his 
play  "  Pygmahon."  Well,  I  think  such  sensations  are 
as  unnecessary  as  they  are  uncalled  for.  But  I 
remember  a  sensation  over  this  selfsame  word  which 
was    productive   of   the    greatest   good. 

Some  years  ago  my  friend,  the  Rev.  Father  Stanton, 
formed  the  Postman's  Guild,  where  he  was  a  much- 
honoured  and  much-loved  figure  ;  but,  strange  to  say, 
and  much  to  his  disgust,  the  young  men  of  the  club 
were  in  the  habit,  even  in  his  presence,  of  indulging 
in  the  foulest  language.  Now  it  so  chanced  that  every 
Saturday  night  the  Guild  gave  a  tripe  supper,  which 
was  a  very  popular  institution  among  the  members 
of  the  Guild.  On  a  certain  Saturday  evening,  and 
greatly    to    the    mingled    surprise    and   pleasure    of    the 


88  CASSOCK    AND    COMEDY 

young  men,  the  Rev.  Father  strode  into  the  supper- 
room,  took  his  seat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  then, 
rapping  his  knife  on  his  plate,  he  cried  out  vigorously, 
"  Smith,  pass  me  the  bloody  mustard  !  "  Smith  turned 
white  ;  the  other  men  looked  aghast  at  one  another. 
Again  the  Father's  voice  rang  out,  this  time  with  a 
note  of  anger  in  it  :  "  Smith,  didn't  you  hear  what  I 
said?  Pass  me  the  bloody  mustard!  "  Smith  passed 
the  cruet  in  dead  silence,  and  a  shocked  and  disgusted 
expression  flitted  across  his  ingenuous  countenance. 
But,  quite  undaunted.  Father  Stanton  continued, 
"  Jones,  old  chap,  why  the  hell  don't  you  pass  up  the 
salt?  It's  bloody  bad  manners  to  keep  everything  to 
yourself.     Shove  the  blarsted  potatoes  along  !  " 

By  this  time  they  all  thought  their  beloved  priest  had 
gone  quite  crazy.  Suddenly  Father  Stanton  laid  down 
his  knife  and  fork  and  remarked,  in  a  very  quiet  and 
impressive  manner,  "  There,  dear  boys,  doesn't  it  sound 
nasty  and  disgusting?  I  have  used  my  first  and  last 
swear-words.  I  promise  you  I  will  never  swear  again, 
and  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  make  the  same  promise. 
Upon  my  word,  much  as  I  loathe  it,  I  would  almost 
prefer  you  to  get  drunk  than  to  use  filthy  language. 
There  may  be,  and  often  is,  an  excuse  for  drunkenness  ; 
there  is  none  whatever  for  swearing." 

And  the  friend  who  told  me  this  story,  and  who, 
indeed,  was  actually  present  at  the  table  that  very 
night,  assured  me  the  men  never  swore  at  the  tripe 
supper  again,  or,  indeed,  in  the  club  itself.  Father 
Stanton  was  a  many-sided  man,  and  he  was  popular 
with  all  classes  and  with  young  and  old  alike.  He  was 
particularly  fond  of  little  children,  and  he  always  loved 
the  child's  point  of  view.  "  '  Out  of  the  mouths  of 
babes  and  sucklings,'  Capper,"  he  said  to  me  one  day, 
"  we  may  often  learn  more  than  out  of  all  our  sermons. 


CASSOCK   AND    COMEDY  89 

I  will  give  you  an  instance  that  occurred  only  the  other 
day.     I  was  dehghted  with  it. 

"  A  little  girl  whose  mother  had  been  reading  a 
Bible  story  to  her  thus  expressed  her  opinion  :  '  But,, 
mother,'  she  said,  '  was  God  really  very  angry  with  the 
children  of  Israel  for  bowing  down  and  worshipping 
the  golden  calf?  '  '  Of  course  He  was,  darHng,  very 
angry  indeed.'  'Huh!'  said  the  little  one.  'Most 
people  would  have  laughed.' 

"  And  so  they  would,"  said  Father  Stanton.  "  Do 
you  know  it  gave  me  a  totally  new  point  of  view  and 
opened  up  a  whole  vista  of  theological  thought?  I 
almost  preached  a  sermon  on  it." 

But  one  of  the  most  amusing  clergymen  I  ever  met 
was  the  Rev.  Charles  Lesley,  a  well-meaning  but  much- 
misunderstood  person,  although  he  and  I  always  hit 
it  off  together.  I  may  mention  that  Lesley  was  not 
his  real  name,  but  we  will  let  it  pass  at  that.  I  first 
came  across  him  at  a  dinner-party,  when  he  convulsed 
us  all  with  the  following  story  of  his  farewell  sermon 
to  a  parish  in  which,  I  presume,  he  had  not  succeeded 
in  making  himself  liked  one  little  bit. 

Here  was  the  manner  in  which  he  announced  his 
departure  to  a  congregation  which  had  gathered  in 
church  in  response  to  the  enormous  posters  which  he 
had  plastered  all  over  the  parish,  announcing  that,  as 
he  was  preaching  his  farewell  sermon,  he  had  three 
very  particular  things  to  say  to  his  parishioners. 

"  My  dear  friends,"  he  began,  "  before  I  give  out 
the  text  of  my  last  and  farewell  sermon  in  this  church 
I  will  tell  you  the  three  reasons  why  I  am  leaving  you, 
and  leaving  you  gladly  too.  First  of  all,  I  am  leaving 
you  because  you  do  not  love  God  ;  and  this  is  proved 
by  the  fact  that  since  I  came  here  three  years  ago 
scarcely  a  soul  has  put  his  nose  inside  this  building. 


90  CASSOCK    AND    COMEDY 

This  proves  conclusively  you  do  not  love  God.  That 
is  reason  No.    i. 

"  Reason  No.  2  :  You  do  not  love  one  another.  And 
this  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  in  this  thickly  populated 
parish  there  has  not  been  one  single  vi^edding  performed 
in  this  church  since  I  entered  the  parish.  That  proves 
your  dislike  of  yourselves.     That  is  reason  No.   2. 

"  Reason  No.  3  :  You  do  not  love  me.  You  know 
you  don't  !  And  how  do  I  prove  that?  For  the  last 
three  years  I  have  been  entitled,  as  every  Vicar  is, 
to  the  annual  Easter  offering,  and  yet  the  whole  amount 
for  these  three  years  of  my  stay  amongst  you  has  only 
amounted  to  3s.  iifd.  That  proves  conclusively  that 
you  do  not  love  me.  That  is  reason  No.  3.  Can  you 
therefore,  dearly  beloved— though  under  the  circum- 
stances it  is  a  mockery  to  apply  such  a  term  to  you,  for 
in  my  eyes  you  are  neither  '  dear  '  nor  '  lovable,' — can 
you  therefore  wonder  that  I  joyfully  accepted  the  offer 
of  the  Chaplaincy  of  Wormwood  Scrubbs  Prison,  which 
came  to  me  from  the  Bishop  ten  days  ago?  Now  for 
my  text,  which  is  taken  from  the  second  verse  of  the 
fourteenth  chapter  of  the  Gospel  of  St.  John—'  /  go 
to   prepare  a   place  for  you! 

One  of  the  oddest  experiences  I  ever  went  through 
was  in  a  country  vicarage,  where  I  was  staying  in  order 
that  I  might  give  an  entertainment  in  aid  of  a  parish 
charity. 

Stopping  at  the  house  at  the  same  time  were  two 
very  smart  society  young  ladies  from  Scotland — the 
Miss  Macphersons— and  their  names  were  almost  equally 
prominent  with  my  own  on  the  bills  as  taking  part  in 
the  performance,  vdth  music  and  recitations.  Any- 
how, the  whole  parish  was  much  impressed  with  their 
stately  demeanour  and  rather  distinguished  appearance. 
I  happened  to  arrive  in  the  little  town  the  day  before 


CASSOCK   AND    COMEDY  91 

the  performance,  and  called  in  the  afternoon  upon 
some  old  friends  of  mine  in  the  neighbourhood.  They 
appeared  curiously  anxious  to  hear  what  these  Scotch 
girls  were  like,  as  they  had  heard  such  extraordinary 
rumours  about  them,  the  fishmonger  having  made  it 
generally  known  that  the  Vicar's  wife  was  feeding  them, 
in  his  exact  phraseology,  "  on  stinking  fish,"  and  his 
reason  for  saying  so  was  that  Mrs.  Vicar  had  called  at 
his  shop  and  had  insinuated  that  they  lived  on  fish  and 
were  not  at  all  particular  as  to  its  quality,  and  that, 
indeed,  if  anything,  they  preferred  it  a  little  off  colour, 
"  Anyhow,"  said  my  friends  to  me,  rather  spitefully, 
"  you  will  have  a  crowded  house  to-night,  but  yoii 
won't  be  the  attraction  ;  they  are  all  agog  to  see  the, 
girls  who  prefer  stinking  fish  to  fresh." 

I  went  with  my  friend  to  the  local  club  and  found  the 
members  there  hotly  engaged  in  discussion  upon  the 
Miss  Macphersons  and  their  extraordinary  diet,  and 
eager  to  hear  what  I,  who  had  met  and  talked  and, 
above  all,  eaten  with  them,  really  thought  of  them. 

At  the  Vicarage  dinner  that  night  I  kept  a  sharp 
look-out  on  what  the  two  girls  ate,  taking  jolly  good 
care,  however,  to  give  the  fish  course  a  very  wide  berth 
myself  when  it  was  handed  to  me. 

The  performance  went  off  splendidly,  and  the  efforts 
of  the  "  lofty  "  fish-eaters  were  highly  appreciated, 
although  they  themselves  were  exceedingly  puzzled,  not 
to  say  a  little  indignant  and  disconcerted  at  the  roar 
of  laughter  which  burst  from  the  enormous  audience 
that  crammed  the  Corn  Exchange  from  floor  to  ceiling, 
and  which  first  greeted  their  stately  entry. 

Throughout  life  I  have  made  a  point  of  not  inter- 
fering with  other  people's  affairs,  but  that  night,  when 
every  one  else  had  gone  to  bed  and  the  worthy  Vicar 
and  I  were  discussing  a  good  cigar  and  the  elocutionary 


92  CASSOCK    AND    COMEDY 

efforts  of  the  two  Miss  Macphersons,  I  plucked  up 
heart  of  grace  and  frankly  questioned  the  Vicar  con- 
cerning their  extraordinary  predilections  with  regard 
to  their  fish  diet.  At  first  the  Vicar,  who  naturally 
enough  had  never  heard  a  whisper  of  the  gossip  that 
had  been  raging  like  wildfire  through  the  town  for  the 
past  two  days,  could  not  imagine  what  on  earth  I  was' 
driving  at.  Suddenly  a  light  flashed  through  his  mind. 
He  burst  into  an  uncontrollable  fit  of  laughter. 

"  I  have  it  !  "  he  cried.  "  My  wife  had  two  gulls 
sent  her  from  Scotland  on  Monday.  She  called  at  the 
fishmonger's  and  told  him  she  didn't  suppose  the  gulls 
cared  much  what  kind  of  fish  they  ate,  and  as  she  didn't 
intend  to  spend  a  lot  of  money  on  their  diet,  he  could 
send  up  to  the  Vicarage  all  the  antique  stuff  he  couldn't 
otherwise  dispose  of.  Knowing  that  two  Scotch  girls 
were  staying  at  the  Vicarage,  the  good  man  must  have 
muddled  up  gulls  and  girls  in  his  mind.  But  it's  the 
best  joke  I  ever  came  across  in  my  life  !  " 


CHAPTER    VIII 

TWO   UNCONVENTIONAL   PERSONALITIES 
(THE  VICAR   OF   GORLESTON   and   MRS.    PANKHURST) 

The  Vicar  of  Gorleston  is  a  very  much  misunderstood 
man,  but  he  is  a  fine  fellow  for  all  that.  I  have 
never  met  a  man  who  impressed  me  more  favour- 
ably, certainly  never  amongst  the  Anglican  clergy.  He 
is  absolutely  independent,  and,  so  far  from  being  a 
charlatan,  as  those  who  know  him  not  are  sometimes 
in  the  habit  of  hinting,  he  is  the  most  real  person  I 
know.  He  is  an  extraordinarily  intellectual  man,  as 
is  evidenced  by  his  gigantic  head,  which  is  full  of 
brains  and  not  water,  and  yet  it  is  a  head  well  in 
harmony  with  a  very  powerful  physique.  Clean-shaven, 
humorous,  with  a  massive  contour  and  bright  and 
twinkling  eyes  and  the  most  incisive  manner  of  telling 
a  story  I  have  ever  known,  I  do  not  wonder  that  the 
Vicar  is  the  joy  of  his  beloved  fishermen  on  the  East 
Coast,  where,  by  the  by,  he  is  one  of  the  most  influen- 
tial and  notable  persons  for  many  miles  round. 
Forbes  Phillips  rules  the  roast  ecclesiastically  and 
politically,  and  his  church  is  the  most  crowded 
church  between  London  and  Newcastle,  and  that  with- 
out a  possibility  of  contradiction.  He  is  an  extremely 
fine  preacher,  not  so  much  from  the  point  of  view  of 
delivery,  although  that  is  excellent — clear,  quiet,  and 
deliberate — but  on  account  of  the  enormous  amount  of 
thought  and  matter  that  is  crammed  into  each  pregnant 

93 


94      TWO  UNCONVENTIONAL   PERSONALITIES 

passage.  Few  men  in  the  Anglican  Church  to-day  are 
half  so  well  read  in  general  literature  as  he  is,  few 
know  so  much  science  or  can  apply  it  better,  and  none 
has  such  an  extraordinary  grasp  of  civil  and  eccle- 
siastical law  as  the  Vicar  of  Gorleston.  In  private 
life  his  sense  of  humour  compels  an  atmosphere  of  joy 
to  any  one  who  is  blessed  with  ever  so  slight  an 
appreciation  of  the  lighter  side  of  life,  while  his  kind- 
ness of  heart,  his  fierceness  on  behalf  of  justice  and 
fair  play  and  the  whole  wide  human  outlook  of  the 
man  constitute  him  one  of  the  most  winning  characters 
I  have  ever  met.  I  do  not  know  any  one  who  can 
keep  a  room  so  hushed  as  he  can  whilst  he  is  telling 
one  of  his  humorous  anecdotes,  and  there  is  not  a  pro- 
fessional actor  who  can  surpass  him  in  this  respect. 
Indeed,  I  once  saw  a  group  of  men  at  the  Garrick — 
Sir  Herbert  Tree,  Lord  Cork,  the  late  Joe  Knight,  and 
many  others,  all  of  them  supremely  fine  raconteurs 
themselves — spellbound  by  the  stories  and  the  dramatic 
action  and  the  extraordinarily  funny  and  indescribable 
facial  play  of  this  great,  broad-faced,  clean-shaven 
Anglican  priest,  fresh  from  his  country  parish.  No 
one  ever  wants  to  hear  any  one  else  open  his  mouth 
whilst  the  Vicar  is  in  the  neighbourhood.  And  he  is 
possessed,  too,  to  a  quite  exceptional  extent,  of  what 
I  may  term  the  growing  mind.  He  more  than  any  one 
I  know,  lay  or  cleric,  keeps  pace  with  the  times,  and 
there  are  few  men  who  can  write  finer  newspaper 
articles    than   can    Forbes    Phillips. 

His  stories  of  his  brother  clergy,  and  especially  of 
the  very  junior  clergy,  are  quite  excellent  of  their  kind. 
I  remember  his  telling  me  once  of  a  young  curate 
whom  he  had  just  engaged,  an  excellent  young  fellow, 
but  who  was  simply  hopeless  as  a  preacher.  So  at 
last  Phillips  said  to  him  in  despair  one  day,  "  My  dear 


TWO  UNCONVENTIONAL   PERSONALITIES      95 

boy,  you  will  never  learn  to  be  a  preacher  unless  you 
tackle    your    subject    in    the    right    way.      Now,    next 
Sunday,  get  hold  of  a  simple  text  and  then  simply  talk 
to    the    people."       "  He    did    both,"    humorously    re- 
marked   the    Vicar    as    he    told    me    the    story.       "  He 
ascended   the   pulpit   and   gave   out   his   text,    '  Are   not 
two    sparrows    sold    for    a    farthing?  '      And    then    he 
paused.      Then  he  mildly  gazed  round  the  church  and 
repeated   the   text.      '  Scripture   can   only   be   explained 
and  interpreted  by  Scripture,  therefore  let  us  see  what 
the   other   evangelist    has    to    say   upon    this    important 
subject.'     Here  he  took  up  his  Bible  and  spent  some 
time    finding   what    he    required,    which,    when   he    had 
done,  he  read  out  aloud,   '  Are  not  five  sparrows  sold 
for     two     farthings?  '      '  Now,    my    dear     friends,'    he 
went   on,    whilst    I    sat    in   an   agony    of   anxiety   as    to 
what  he  would  say  next, — '  now,  my  dear  friends,  this 
constitutes   a   serious    discrepancy,   of   that   there   is   no 
doubt,  nor  can  we  deny  it,  nor  ought   we  to  deny   it, 
and  it  is  upon  such  a  discrepancy  as  this  that  the  critics, 
the   so-called   Higher   Critics,'   he   cried,    with   ineffable 
scorn  and  disdain,   '  would  gladly  seize  and  make  use 
of  as   an   excuse   for   their   infamous   attacks   upon   the 
sacred  doctrine  of  the  inspiration  of  every  single  word 
in  the  Holy  Book.     But,  my   dear  friends,  such  a  dis- 
crepancy presents  no  difficulty  whatever  to  my  mind  ; 
indeed,   I    welcome   this    statement,    contradictory   as   it 
may    appear    to    the    unthinking    or    the    evil-minded, 
because    it    illustrates    the    vast    difference    that    exists 
between  man's  petty  way  of  dealing  with  man  and  the 
magnificent  and  overpowering  generosity  of  our  Father 
who  is  in  heaven.      You   lay  out  one  farthing  and  you 
receive  two  sparrows  in  exchange  ;    greatly  daring,  you 
venture  on   an  expenditure  of   two    farthings,   and   lo  ! 
the  Almighty  throws   a   sparrow   in  !  '  " 


96      TWO  UNCONVENTIONAL  PERSONALITIES 

Phillips    knows   how   to    manage   men,    and   his    gift 
of  humour  never  fails  him  ;     it   is  one  of  his  greatest 
assets   in    life.      On    one    occasion    he    was    going    his 
usual  round  in  a  North  Country  parish  in  which  he  was 
once  a  curate.      But  let  the  Vicar  tell  the  story  him- 
self.     "  '  Please   go   away,    sir,'   said   a   woman   whose 
house  I  had  entered  whilst  on  my  rounds.      '  Go,  sir, 
at  once,  please.     My  man  is  drunk  and  he  is  chasing 
the   Vicar   now   down   the   back   lane   with   the   frying- 
pan  I  '      I    left    the    good    woman,    who    seemed   much 
relieved   to   get   quit   of   me,   and   proceeded   forthwith 
to    my    Vicar's    assistance.     True    enough,    he    was    a 
prisoner  in  a  yard,  while  an  infuriated  man,  in  a  pair 
of  trousers  and  a  shirt,  hammered  the  door  with  a  huge 
frying-pan,   demanding  admittance  for   the   purpose  of 
finishing  the  parson.      The   man,   of   course,   was  mad 
with   drink,   so   I   took  the  frying-pan  away  from  him 
and  persuaded  him  to   put   off   killing  my   Vicar  until 
Sunday  was   over.      I    explained   that   the  whole   work 
would  fall  upon  me,  as  it  was  Saturday,  and  there  wasn't 
time  to   get  another   Vicar.      Under   the  circumstances 
the  man  acceded  to  my  modest  and  reasonable  request. 
'  Ah   sees   what    tha'    means,    lad,    and   it    sounds    reet 
enough,'   said  he.      '  But   ah'U   kill   t'   owd   beggar   as 
sure  as  eggs  is  eggs  coom  Monday.'     He  and  I  were 
rather   friendly,   and   consideration   for   me   carried   the 
day.     I  am  afraid  my  Vicar  had  been  rather  injudicious 
in  some  of  his   remarks,   and   I   always   feel   an  ounce 
of  tact  is  worth  a  pound  of  precept.     My  dear  fellow," 
he  went  on,  "  nothing  exasperates  me  so  much  as  the 
Anglican    want    of    tact,    and    especially    amongst    the 
feminine    clerics — the    Vicar's    wife,    the    Canon's    wife, 
and  most  of  all  the  Bishop's  wife.      I   don't  think  we 
can   exaggerate   the   value   of   tact,    especially   when    it 
comes  to  parish  visiting.     Tact  docs  more  to  win  poor 


TWO  UNCONVENTIONAL   PERSONALITIES      97 

people  than  all  the  texts  in  the  Bible.  I  detest  the 
curate  who  marches  into  a  poor  person's  house  with  his 
hat  on  his  head.  Hang  it  all  !  "  cried  the  Vicar  in 
desperation,  "  their  lot  is  quite  hard  enough  without 
our  heaping  insults  and  indignity  upon  them.  No 
curate  would  ever  dare  to  walk  into  his  Squire's 
drawing-room  with  his  hat  on  !  Why  the  dickens  (only 
he  didn't  say  dickens)  should  he  dare  to  presume  to 
do  so  merely  because  a  man  is  poor  and  down  on 
his  luck?  And  the  Vicar's  wife  !  Heavens  !  I  some- 
times marvel  how  it  is  the  Anglican  Church  has 
managed  to  survive  the  British  clerical  woman.  But 
our  Church  is  a  tough  old  bird,  or  she  would  have 
panned  out  centuries  ago.  One  dear  vicarial  lady  I 
knew  once  who  actually  had  been  known  to  go  into  a 
cottage,  lift  the  lid  off  the  saucepan  on  the  fire,  and 
stir  the  contents  with  her  dirty  walking-stick  ! 

"  There  was  more  than  unconscious  humour  in  the 
little  girl  who  in  a  General  Knowledge  paper  defined 
*  vixen  '  as  the  wife  of  a  vicar  ! 

"  The  greatest  compliment  ever  paid  to  a  clergyman 
that  I  have  heard  of,"  continued  the  Vicar,  "  was  paid  to 
a  friend  of  mine  who  was  a  curate  in  a  large  town  parish. 

"  When  he  had  left,  the  Vicar  was  going  his  rounds 
when  he  met  a  certain  old  woman.  '  Well,  Mrs. 
Smith,'  said  he,  '  so  poor  Mr.  Brown  has  left  us  at 
last.'  '  Yes,  Vicar,  and  I'm  main  sorry  for  it.  I 
don't  'old  with  curicks  as  a  rule,  well  knowin'  wot  an 
infernal  noosance  they  are  to  every  one  about  the  place  ; 
but  I  will  say  for  that  there  Brown,  'e  alius  know'd 
wen  it  was  washin'   day  !  '  " 

The  Vicar's  encounters  with  his  ecclesiastical 
superiors  were  once  the  talk  of  England.  But 
to  hear  him  relate  them  is  as  good  as  a  play.  I  have 
never    been    more    feverishly    interested    in    anything. 

8 


98      TWO  UNCONVENTIONAL   PERSONALITIES 

For  a  year  or  two  in  the  late  'nineties  Mr.  Phillips 
and  his  Bishop  did  not  quite  hit  it  off — whose  fault 
it  was  it  would  be  difficult  to  say  exactly  ;  suffice  it 
that  they  were  not  at  first  on  very  friendly  terms,  though 
long  before  the  Bishop  resigned  Forbes  Phillips  had 
learned  to  love  him.  "  He  is  a  saint,"  he  would  often 
say  to  me,  "  and  we  shall  never  see  his  like  again." 
But  I  well  remember,  in  1896  or  thereabouts,  one 
extraordinary  occurrence  taking  place  in  Gorleston 
Church,  a  tussle  between  the  Bishop  and  the  Vicar, 
in  which  the  Vicar  decidedly  came  off  the  victor. 

It  was  on  the  occasion  of  a  great  Confirmation,  and 
the  magnificent  old  Norman  church  was  crammed  to 
the  doors.  The  Vicar  sat  quietly  writing  in  the  vestry, 
the  churchwardens  and  chief  choirmen  hovering  around, 
all  agog  for  the  coming  of  the  Bishop — and  the  arrival 
of  no  monarch  is  awaited  with  such  a  thrill  or  is 
attended  with  such  ceremony  as  is  the  coming  of  the 
Bishop  of  the  diocese  to  a  country  church. 

Suddenly  a  loud,  stern  voice  broke  the  stillness  of 
the  great  building,  and  these  words  rang  out  clear  and 
vigorous  upon  the  ears  of  the  startled  congregation  : 
"  Put  those  candles  out  !  "  Phillips  at  once  recog- 
nized his  diocesan's  voice  and  knew  that  the  words 
referred  to  the  candles  upon  the  altar.  No  one  appar- 
ently moved  to  do  the  Bishop's  bidding.  The  Bishop 
consequently  entered  the  vestry,  where  the  Vicar  was 
still  engaged  quietly  writing.  Working  himself  up  into 
a  blaze  of  indignation,  the  Bishop  cried  again  :  "  Put 
those  candles  out  !  "  The  Vicar  quietly  turned  his 
head.  "  Please  don't  make  such  a  noise,"  he  said. 
"  Unless  those  candles  are  put  out  at  once,"  said  the 
Bishop,  "  I  shall  leave  the  church  without  holding  the 
Confirmation."  Forbes  Phillips  composedly  took  his 
watch    out    of    his    pocket.      "  Unless    your    Lordship 


TWO  UNCONVENTIONAL   PERSONALITIES      99 

begins  the  service  within  three  minutes  I  will  myself 
announce  to  the  congregation  that  there  will  be  no 
Confirmation  to-day." 

In  less  than  two  minutes  the  Bishop  had  taken  his 
place  and  the  service  be^gan.  It  was  a  drastic  measure, 
and  I  don't  know  that  the  Vicar  was  altogether  justi- 
fied in  his  action,  and  I  know  he  doesn't  think  so 
himself  to-day.  "  But,"  as  he  said  to  me  only  a  few 
days  ago,  "  I  was  rather  exasperated  by  the  Bishop's 
manner,  which  in  those  early  days  I  had  not  come  to 
understand.  Had  he  asked  to  have  the  candles  put  out, 
because  he  preferred  it,  I  should  have  put  them  out  at 
once,  and  I  would  have  walked  into  a  church  in  black 
gown  and  bands  did  I  think  it  would  have  pleased 
the  old  man.  But  it's  all  over  now,  and  long  before 
he  left  here  I  simply  loved  him.  I  soon  came  to 
regard  him  as  a  real  Father  in  God.  Yes,  there  were 
few  men  in  the  Church  Avho  for  real  saintliness  could 
ever  hold  a  candle  to  the  late  Bishop  of  Norwich.  I 
rejoice  to  think  I  had  the  honour  of  working  under 
him.      God  rest  his  honest  soul." 

I  remember  once  discussing  with  the  Vicar  some 
of  the  differences  between  the  High  and  the  Low  parties 
in  the  Anglican  Church.  He  summed  them  up  very 
briefly,  defining  the  difference  between  them  as  "  The 
High  Church  drink  too  much  and  the  Low  Church  eat 
too  much."  On  another  occasion  he  spoke  of  "  the 
High  and  crazy,  the  Broad  and  hazy,  and  the  Low  and 
lazy."  He  is  very  fond  of  children.  One  day  he  took 
some  visitors  into  the  infant  day-school.  "  Well,  my 
little  rosebuds,  do  you  know  who  I  am?  "  he  asked. 
One  child  of  tender  age  seized  his  hand  and  cried 
excitedly,   "  Yes,   sir,  you  are  my  father  !  " 

On  one  occasion,  passing  down  the  street,  a  beggar, 
smelling  strongly  of  stale  beer,  stopped  him  and  solicited 


loo     TWO  UNCONVENTIONAL  PERSONALITIES 

alms.  The  Vicar  is  one  of  these  men  who  can  never 
refuse  an  appeal  for  help,  and  he  pulled  some  coins 
from  his  pocket  and  gave  the  man  a  piece  of  silver. 
"  God  bless  you,  sir  ;  I  hope  we  shall  meet  in  heaven." 

"  If  there's  a  saloon  bar  there,  I  shall  know  where  to 
find  you,"  was  his  reassuring  reply. 

In  reply  to  a  comment  of  mine  upon  the  foregoing 
incident,  he  said,  "  You  are  probably  right  in  your 
estimate  of  him,  but  I  would  rather  help  twenty  rogues 
than  miss  one  case  of  genuine  need."  Then  he  added, 
"  The  greatest  criminals  I  have  known  have  not  been 
drunkards  but  teetotalers.  When  I  worked  in  the 
slums  of  a  big  town  I  lived  among  the  criminal 
class.  Their  favourite  drink  was  cocoa,  and  they  would 
not  have  a  drunkard  in  their  gangs.  When  a  man  is 
brought  before  a  magistrate  he  feels  round  for  an 
excuse  for  his  crime,  and  if  there's  a  teetotal  crank  on 
the  bench  he  whines  '  drink'.'  It  is  generally  a  lie, 
and,  if  true,  is  stupid.  I  saw  a  small  boy  whack  his 
sister  on  the  head  with  a  spade  ;  when  I  boxed  his  ears 
he  whined  that  the  spade  did  it." 

His  work  takes  him  among  the  Mine  Sweepers  and 
H.M.  Patrol  Service.  He  has  some  amusing  yarns  of 
these  hardy  vikings,  who  have  proved  such  a  valuable 
auxiliary  to  our  Navy.  One  splendid  sea-rover  calling 
on  him  said,  "  I  come  acrost  one  of  these  'ere  German 
mines,  and  I  shot  at  it  and  the  mate  shot  at  it  for  about 
half  a  day  and  we  couldn't  sink  it,  so  we  got  out  the 

boat  and  I  bored  a  hole  in  the  thing  ;    then  I  held 

it  under  water  until  it  sank." 

"  How  on  earth  it  happened  that  the  men  were  not 
blown  into  eternity  is  a  miracle  and  a  mystery,"  the 
Vicar  added.  "  When  these  jaunty,  impudent  little 
vessels  are  properly  armed,  the  end  of  the  war  will  be 
in  sight.      How  little  England  knows  of  their  splendid 


TWO  UNCONVENTIONAL   PERSONALITIES     loi 

work,  night  and  day,  in  all  weathers,  and  we  are  not 
allowed  to  tell  England." 

I  could  go  on  for  ever  telling  stories  of  this  remark- 
able man,  but  I  must  come  to  an  end.  I  can  only  say 
that  a  finer  specimen  of  Anglicanism  does  not  exist,  and 
as  I  have  been  on  more  or  less  intimate  terms  with  very 
nearly  a  thousand  English  clergymen — for  no  man  knows 
more  of  the  clergy  than  I  do — I  may  claim  to  be  some- 
what of  an  authority  on  the  subject.  The  Vicar  of 
Gorleston  has  his  niche  in  the  twentieth -century  Church 
of  England,  and  no  one  could  fill  it  better.  I  only  hope 
I  shall  live  to  see  him  consecrated  Bishop  to  one  of  our 
great  city  dioceses.  No  man  could  ever  be  more  happily 
placed,  except  that  he  himself  would  desire  such  a  post 
of  honour  least  of  any  man  I  have  ever  known.  In  his 
mouth  the  famous  ecclesiastical  and  ceremonious  con- 
ventional utterance,  "  Nolo  episcopari,'"  would  be  liter- 
ally true,  though  I  am  persuaded  no  man  would  ever 
realize  the  office  in  its  highest  avatar  better  than  he 
would.  He  once  told  me  that  he  would  only  consent  to 
accept  a  bishopric  on  condition  that  he  was  allowed 
to  give  his  palace  to  the  poor,  his  soul  to  God,  and  all 
his  life  to  the  alleviation  of  the  suffering  and  to  the 
comfort  of  the  dying.  "  I  should  like,"  he  said,  "  to 
go  from  parish  to  parish  of  my  diocese,  carrying  no 
luggage  with  me  and  with  no  money  in  my  purse,  and 
simply  preach  the  Word  of  God  and  give  the  Sacrament 
in  every  church  in  my  charge — a  servant  of  the  lowliest 
and  the  most  humble.    That  is  my  idea  of  a  real  Bishop." 

Mrs.  Pankhurst  is  just  one  of  those  charming,  spon- 
taneous, enthusiastic  little  women  whom  every  man, 
if  he  is  a  man,  and  whatever  his  opinions  on  the  great 
Suffrage  Question  may  be,  loves  intuitively  and  at  first 
sight. 


I02     TWO  UNCONVENTIONAL  PERSONALITIES 

She  is  pre-eminently  lovable,  and  that  lovableness 
of  hers  accounts,  even  more  than  her  work,  her  energy, 
and  her  earnestness,  for  her  marvellous  success.  I  am 
not  a  very  great  believer  in  Women's  Suffrage,  but  I 
am  a  great  believer  in  Mrs.  Pankhurst,  and  I  always 
enjoy  talking  with  her  ;  for  one  thing  she  is  so  common- 
sense,  and  direct  and  plucky,  as,  indeed,  all  the  world 
knows  ;  and  she  has  a  delightful  face,  which  also  goes  a 
long  way  towards  the  conquest  and  subjugation,  or,  shall 
I  say  rather,  the  winning  over  of  her  enemies,  especially 
her  masculine  opponents.  Perhaps  she  won't  like  me  to 
say  this  ;  but  it's  true  nevertheless.  I  had  a  long 
chat  with  her  only  last  June,  shortly  after  one  of  her 
war  meetings  at  the  Pavilion,  and  I  was  immensely 
impressed  by  her  enthusiastic  patriotism.  And  I  even 
ventured  to  hint  how  pleasant  a  surprise  it  was  to  me 
that  she  was  thus  minded,  for  I  had  had  a  sort  of  idea 
that  she  and  her  followers  would  not  be  altogether  on 
the  side  of  the  country  they  had  fought  so  long. 

"  Ah  I  "  she  vivaciously  replied,  "  but  that  is  just 
exactly  where  you  were  wrong.  In  the  first  place  we 
were  never  against  the  country,  nor  even  against  the 
general  feeling  of  the  country,  and  in  the  second  place 
I  think  that  the  very  earnestness  we  displayed  for  a 
formal  recognition  of  our  own  citizenship  argued  well 
for  the  patriotic  side  we  would  be  sure  to  take  in  time 
of  war.  All  we  pray  the  Government  to  do  is  to  or- 
ganize us  women.  Women  you  know,  Mr.  Capper,  are 
much  more  direct  in  their  methods  than  you  men  are. 
For  instance,  though  here,  in  a  great  organization  such 
as  the  W.S.P.U.,  we  naturally  believe  in  and  know  the 
value  of  red-tape,  at  the  right  moment  we  should  be 
much  quicker  in  cutting  it  in  emergencies  than  you 
men  are.  And  the  War  Office  is  absolutely  being 
throttled  by  the  red-tape  that  ties  and  binds  its  officials' 


TWO  UNCONVENTIONAL   PERSONALITIES     103 


J 


hands  and  feet.  Do  you  know  that  women,  not  Suffra- 
gettes, but  women  generally  right  throughout  the 
country  are  getting  very  restive?  They  have  a  grievance 
against  the  Government  that  they  are  not  allowed  to  do 
their  bit  for  their  country.  We  are  not  doing  half 
enough.  There  are  half  a  million  women  in  Germany 
making  ammunition  ;  French  women  saved  the  harvest 
last  year,  and  English  women  would  do  the  same  this 
year." 

"  But,  Mrs.  Pankhurst,  I  go  about  the  country  a  great 
deal,"  I  said,  "  and  I  find  that  the  farmers'  wives  and 
daughters  absolutely  refuse  to  do  a  hand's  turn  on  the 
fields.  They  have  been  brought  up  to  regard  such  work 
as  being  beneath  them." 

"  Because  they  are  not  organized,"  replied  my 
hostess.  *'  We  ask,  we  beg,  we  implore  the  Govern- 
ment to  organize  the  whole  country,  men  and  women 
alike.  Look  at  this  resolution,"  she  said,  as  she  handed 
me  the  resolution. 

That  we,  men  and  women,  here  assembled  affirm  our  loyal 
devotion  to  the  great  cause  of  national  freedom  which  Great  Britain 
and  her  Allies  are  fighting  to  maintain,  and  believing  that  the 
organized  efforts  of  all  are  needed  to  ensure  a  speedy  and  complete 
victory,  we  ask  the  Government  to  establish  universal  obligatory 
national  war  service  for  men  and  women. 

"  This  was  proposed  and  seconded  and  carried  unani- 
mously at  our  meeting  at  the  Pavilion  the  other  day. 
I  mentioned  it  privately  beforehand  to  a  man  who  was 
present,  and  he  hummed  and  hawed,  and  at  last  said, 
'  Oh,  I  don't  think  you  had  better  go  as  far  as  that.' 
Bah  !  what  cowards  men  are  !  We  women  are  far  braver. 
That's  the  great  difference  between  men  and  women." 

"  What  we  want  is  a  leader,"  she  continued,  with 
fiery  enthusiasm. 


I04     TWO  UNCONVENTIONAL  PERSONALITIES 

"  Well,"  I  replied,  "  now's  your  chance  !  You  lead 
the  women  of  England  in  a  great  demand  that  they 
shall  be  enrolled  in  their  country's  service,  and  you 
will   see  how   we  shall   all   support   you." 

"  Do  you  really  think  so,  Mr.  Capper?  "  she  wist- 
fully asked. 

"  I  am  quite  certain  of  it,"  I  replied. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Pankhurst,  "  I  really  believe  if 
only  men  would  put  aside  their  little  jealousies  we 
should  work  together  splendidly  ;  but  they  won't.  They 
can't  bear  women  entering  their  sphere,  as  they  call  it. 
Take  recruiting,  for  instance.  Now,  if  you  would  employ 
us  as  recruiters  we  would  get  you  thousands  of  men 
where  you  can  barely  get  hundreds.  And,  in  addition, 
we  would  recruit  all  the  women  too.  Oh  I  "  she  went 
on  in  a  perfect  fervour  of  enthusiasm,  "  women  are 
so  much  more  enthusiastic  and  so  much  more  earnest 
than  you  men.  I  have  been  at  a  great  set  of  recruiting- 
meetings  in  a  certain  part  of  the  country  and  we  only 
got  150  men.  Why,  every  single  woman  would  have 
enlisted  if  it  had  been  they  that  were  asked  for  and 
not  men.  We  are  going  to  get  up  an  agitation  to  be 
allowed  to  serve  our  country,  even  for  nothing,  unless 
something  is  done.  I  am  just  waiting  to  see  what  Lloyd 
George  says  in  his  speech  to-morrow  about  the  organiza- 
tion of  the  country.  And  right  here  in  the  W.S.P.U. 
you  have  some  of  the  finest  organizers  in  the  country. 
We  have  learned  how  to  organize,  I  can  tell  you.  I  can 
safely  guarantee  that  we  would  organize  all  the  women 
in  England  in  two  months  if  we  were  only  given  the 
chance.  I  am  thinking  of  getting  up  a  great  procession 
through  London  for  this  purpose.  All  our  old  enemies 
would  be  on  our  side,  I  feel  sure,  even  the  men  we 
have  antagonized  by  our  militancy  in  the  old  days." 

That  drew  me  off  the  topic  for  the  moment,  and  I 


TWO  UNCONVENTIONAL   PERSONALITIES     105 

took  the  opportunity  of  asking  Mrs.  Pankhurst  a  ques- 
tion I  had  often  wished  to  ask  her.  "  Well,  now,  Mrs. 
Pankhurst,"  I  said,  "  do  you  think  that  your  violent 
methods  really  have  benefited  either  your  cause  or  the 
characters  of  the  women,  deep  down,  who  were  engaged 
in  it?  Have  you  read  'Delia  Blanchflower,'  Mrs. 
Humphry  Ward's  new  book?  There  she  depicts  one 
of  those  dreadful  man-hating  women  who  have  done 
your  cause  such  infinite  harm." 

"  Oh,"  she  vigorously  replied,  "  Mrs.  Ward  was 
writing  on  a  subject  of  which  she  knew  nothing.  Such 
a  woman  as  she  describes  doesn't  exist." 

"  Oh,  but  she  does  1  "  I  as  vigorously  maintained,, 
"  and  I  have  often  met  and  hated  her,  as  every  man^, 
who  is  a  man,  would  inevitably  do." 

"  No  ;  those  man-haters  may  have  existed  in  the  old 
days  when  I  was  a  girl  and  women  were  furious  but 
inarticulate  against  the  injustice  they  groaned  under, 
but  there  are  very  few  of  them  left  to-day.  And  the 
way  to  judge  of  militancy  is  by  the  effect  it  has  on  femi- 
nine character,  and  women  are  more  feminine  than  ever, 
and  that  I  claim  mainly  owing  to  militant  suft'ragism. 
Oh,  do  give  us  work  to  do,  Mr.  Capper  !  Let  us 
manage  your  recruiting  meetings.  You  men  talk  to 
men  too  much  of  their  rights.  We  will  tell  them  of 
their  duty  to  the  country.  Anyway,  let  us  women  get  to 
work,  and  I'll  be  bound  we'll  pull  the  country  through 
somehow  or  another." 

And  upon  my  word  I   believe  they  would. 


CHAPTER    IX 

MY   VISIT   TO   PARIS 

Naturally  a  public  entertainer  embraces  every  oppor- 
tunity   of    enlarging    his    experience,    both    in    the   way 
of     places     and     persons,     and     therefore     when     the 
chance    was    somewhat    unexpectedly    afforded    ine    in 
the    early   'eighties   of    going   over    to    France   to   give 
a  thought-reading  entertainment  in  Paris  I  snatched  at 
it   with   avidity.      I    received  a   letter   one  day   from   a 
gentleman   whose    name    I    will   not    disclose,    and   for 
the  secrecy  that  I  enwrap  that  name,  after  many  years, 
his  friends  who  are  now  alive  will  readily  be  able  to 
supply  the   reason.      He   lived  in   Earl's   Court   Square, 
and  was   obviously   a   person  of   some   social   position. 
He  repres,ented  to  me  that  he  had  held  a  commission  in 
the    1 2th    Lancers,    but    that    he    had    retired    from    the 
Army   and   was   now   living   apparently   the   life  of   an 
ordinary  English  gentleman.      He  assured  me  he  was 
very  anxious  to  make  my  acquaintance,  as  he  had  heard 
much     concerning     my     perfomiances,     and     that     his 
father   had   held   a    very   good    official   position   in   St. 
Petersburg,     and     that     he     possessed     many     friends 
at    all    the    European    Courts,    and    spoke    practically 
every     European     language.       He    felt    assured     that 
if  I   would  accompany  him   to   the  leading  capitals  of 
Europe,  and  give  entertainments  under  his  auspices,  we 
should  probably  find  such  a  junction  of  forces  of  the 
greatest  possible  mutual  benefit.      The  idea  struck  me 


MY    VISIT    TO    PARIS  107 

as  being  decidedly  good,  and  I  at  once  came  up  from 
Southampton  and  paid  him  a  visit  of  some  few  days 
in  Earl's  Court,  where  I  found  he  was  living  with  a 
charming  wife,  an  American,  and  delightful  children. 
He  entertained  largely,  and  his  guests  were  invariably 
people  of  good  social  position.  This  visit  was  in  the 
month  of  August,  and  I  had  ajready  booked  a  large 
number  of  engagements  for  October,  November,  and 
December  in  various  parts  of  the  kingdom.  He  wajnted 
us  to  start  on  our  European  tour  then  and  there,  and  he 
appeared  to  be  under  the  fixed  impression  that  we 
might  well  spend  a  very  profitable  year  upon  the 
Continent.  He  not  only  wanted  to  act  as  my  entre- 
preneur, but  my  interpreter  as  well.  Had  I  then  and 
there  accepted  his  suggestion,  it  would  have  necessi- 
tated the  entire  cancellation  of  my  winter  engage- 
ments, and  I  may  here  remark  that  my  confidence  in  his 
scheme  was  not  quite  so  emphatically  pronounced  as 
his  was — and  quite  honestly  so  too.  But  subsequent 
events  proved  he  would  have  been  more  than  justified 
in  his  expectation  had  the  tour  ever  been  carried  out 
in  its  entirety.  However,  I  had  my  doubts,  though  I 
liked  both  the  man  and  his  general  idea,  and  by  way 
of  a  compromise  I  suggested  that  it  would  be  well 
to  make  a  trial  trip  to  Paris.  He  was  a  creature  of 
impulse  and  of  prompt  action,  and  before  I  had  been 
with  him  forty-eight  hours  the  Whole  Paris  visit  was 
set  in  motion. 

We  made  no  arrangements  beforehand  with  the  ex- 
ception that  we  took  over  with  us  about  a  thousand 
charmingly  and,  I  may  add,  expensively  printed  invita- 
tion cards,  which  it  was  our  intention  to  issue  to  all 
the  best-known  residents  in  Paris  as  soon  as  we  arrived 
there.  We  left  London  on  a  Friday  afternoon,  and 
arrived  in  Paris  in  the  early  hours  of  Saturday  morning. 


io8  MY    VISIT    TO    PARIS 

After  a  bath  and  coffee  and  rolls  my  companion 
declared  his  intention  of  setting  to  work  at  once.  I 
objected  to  such  feverish  strenuosity,  never,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  having  encountered  such  an  extraordinarily 
energetic   and   forceful   person. 

"  Oh  yes,  my  dear  fellow,"  replied  my  friend,  "  within 
half  an  hour  from  now  I  am  going  to  introduce  you  to 
one  of  the  most  distinguished  and  important  men  in 
France,  with  whom  you  must  actually  experiment  to 
the  best  of  your  ability." 

And  sure  enough,  within  half  an  hour  I  found  myself 
in  the  offices  of  the  Figaro,  not  only  being  interviewed 
by  the  editor  of  this  world-famous  paper,  but,  as  my 
companion  had  predicted,  actually  experimenting  with 
him  and  his  clever  staff.  I  regret  to  admit  that  I  am 
too  thorough  and  too  typical  a  Briton  to  be  really 
expert  in  the  French  language,  and  therefore  I  frankly 
acknowledge  I  could  not  understand  altogether  the 
rapid  and  animated  conversation  that  took  place 
between  my  forceful  and  enthusiastic  colleague  and  the 
equally  enthusiastic  and  really  excited  and  interested 
editor.  But  when,  on  the  following  morning,  I  dis- 
covered that  there  were  no  less  than  two  full  columns 
concerning  myself  and  my  doings  in  their  great  paper, 
I  began  to  realize  what  a  remarkable  person  my  self- 
elected  colleague  really  was^,  for,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
no  more  eulogistic  article  could  possibly  have  been 
conceived  or  desired  by  the  most  conceited  and  exigeant 
of  entertainers.  Having  secured  the  large  salon  in 
the  H6tel  Continental  for  the  following  Wednesday 
evening  at  nine  o'clock,  all  the  Saturday  afternoon  was 
devoted  to  sending  out  something  like  a  thousand 
invitations — a  very  necessary  proceeding  when  it  is 
recollected  that  this  was  the  last  Saturday  in  August 
and  Paris  was  practically  empty.     The  invitations  were 


MY    VISIT    TO    PARIS  109 

sent  broadcast  to  any  one  who  was  any  one  at  all^  a 
proceeding  the  wisdom  of  which  was  amply  justified 
by  subsequent  results.  On  the  following  morning — 
Sunday — my  companion  said  to  me,  "  Now,  my  dear 
fellow,  at  ten  o'clock  we  must  call  and  see  Sarah 
Bernhardt,"  and  on  inquiring  whether  he  knew  the 
great  actress,  I  was  horrified  to  learn  that  he  had  never 
even  seen  her,  much  less  that  he  was  acquainted  with 
her.     I  expressed  my  doubts  of  ever  getting  near  her. 

"  That  is  all  right,"  calmly  replied  this  wonderful 
and  imperturbable  personage,  "  if  I  make  up  my  mind 
to  anything  it  always  comes  to  pass.  Within  an  hour 
you  will  not  only  have  met  and  talked  with  her^  but 
you  will  have  performed  one  of  your  most  remarkable 
experiments  with  her  as   your  assistant." 

Forthwith  we  started  for  her  beautiful  residence  in 
the  suburbs  of  Paris,  where  on  our  arrival  we  were 
promptly  informed  by  the  concierge  that  Madame  had 
not  yet  rung  for  her  early  cup  of  chocolate.  My  bear- 
leader, nothing  daunted,  sent  in  a  peremptory  demand 
that  we  should  be  allowed  to  see  Madame  immediately 
on  her  rising  as  our  business  was  of  a  nature  that 
brooked  no  delay.  Consequently  the  maid  speedily 
returned  with  a  message  from  the  great  lady  that  we 
must  await  her  coming  in  her  salon.  Feminine  curiosity 
was  probably  responsible  for  so  prompt  and  favour- 
able a  reply,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  Madame  was 
consumed  by  curiosity  as  to  the  nature  of  the  business 
upon  which  "  les  deux  Messieurs  Anglais  "  desired  to 
see  her  so  peremptorily.  The  maid  led  us  into  a  very 
beautiful  room,  round  about  which  ran  a  gallery,  the 
whole  floor  of  the  salon  itself  being  crowded  with 
beautiful  statues  and  models,  upon  some  of  which  the 
fair  artiste  was  evidently  hard  at  work.  I  can  well 
remember   how   the   exquisite    tapestry   upon   the   walls 


no  MY    VISIT    TO    PARIS 

and  the  colour  and  scent  of  rare  flowers  appealed  to 
my  yet  uncultivated  appreciation  of  the  artistic  and 
the  beautiful.  Here  for  half  an  hour  we  sat  and  rested, 
waiting  with  interest  for  the  appearance  of  a  woman 
concerning  whom  all  the  world  was  then  enthusiastically 
engaged  in  discussing  her  varied  accomplishments. 
Suddenly  a  door  at  the  end  of  the  gallery  opened,  and 
the  tall,  slight  figure  of  the  wonderful  woman,  clad 
in  delicate  draperies,  appeared  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs,  whence  for  a  moment  she  calmly  surveyed  her 
daring  visitors.  Then  she  slowly  descended,  and 
approaching  my  colleague  she  courteously  but  some- 
what peremptorily  demanded  to  be  informed  of  the 
reason  of  our  visit.  I,  of  course,  left  all  the  conversa- 
tion in  the  hands  of  my  friend,  who  immediately  replied 
to  Madame  Bernhardt's  question  by  asking  her  if  she 
had  seen  the  Figaro  that  morning,  and  if  she  had 
read  the  interview  therein  with  Mr.  Alfred  Capper,  the 
famous  thought-reader.  Fortunately  she  replied,  "  Yes, 
I  have,  and  I  was  deeply  interested  in  it  ;  but  what  on 
earth  has  that  interview  to  do  with  your  visit  at  this 
extraordinary  and  unheard-of  hour?  "  "  Madame,"  re- 
plied my  friend,  not  one  whit  disconcerted,  "  it  has 
all  to  do  with  our  visit.  Allow  me  to  introduce  you 
to  Mr.  Capper  himself.  He  has  been  experimenting 
this  past  season  with  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  the 
most  distinguished  people  in  London,  and  he  is  most 
anxious  to  be  allowed  to  experiment  with  you,  the 
most  distinguished  person  in  the  whole  of  France." 
Madame  Bernhardt  was  much  excited  at  my  friend's 
words,  and  she  heartily  and  enthusiastically  entered 
into  the   spirit   of   the  whole   thing. 

Just  as  we  were  about  to  begin  our  impromptu 
performance  another  visitor  was  announced,  who  turned 
out   to    be    no    less    a   person   than   M.    Richepin,    the 


MY    VISIT    TO    PARIS  iii 

famous  poet,  who  was  obviously  amused  and  delighted 
that  he  should  have  appeared  just  in  time  to  take  a 
part   in   a   thought-reading   seance. 

Well,  there  I  was  !  I  had  to  set  to  work  at  once, 
and  notwithstanding  the  small  audience,  I  worked  with 
the  greatest  possible  success^  whilst  Madame  herself 
was  wild  with  joyous  excitement.  Throwing  aside  her 
rather  haughty  and  standoffish  demeanour,  she  went  to 
the  opposite  extreme,  and  gave  herself  up  to  the  ex- 
citement and  interest  of  the  moment  with  an  abandon 
and  thoroughness  that  was  as  typical  of  the  Galilean 
artist  as   it  was   charmingly   natural   and   spontaneous. 

I,  of  course,  went  into  the  next  room  whilst  she 
and  M.  Richepin  arranged  what  I  was  to  do  whilst 
blindfolded. 

Madame  Bernhardt,  in  her  wild  interest  in  the  whole 
entertainment,  spared  nothing  in  that  beautiful  room. 
In  order  to  hide  a  ring  as  effectually  as  possible,  she 
tore  to  pieces  a  beautiful  clay  bust  of  Julius  Csesar 
upon  which  she  was  at  work,  and  later  on  she  ripped 
up  a  magnificent  sofa  in  order  that  she  might  the  more 
easily  conceal  a  bracelet.  Suffice  it  to  say,  after  an 
hour's  wild  debauch,  if  I  may  use  the  term,  of  demon- 
stration of  my  art,  I  quitted  the  lovely  studio,  leaving 
behind  me  a  scene  of  terrible  wreckage,  but  also  leaving 
behind  me  a  really  enthusiastic  and  delighted  woman. 

I  need  scarcely  say  that,  in  accordance  with  my 
usual  custom,  I  remained  as  cool  as  a  cucumber,  and 
I  never  broke  a  single  tea-cup.  The  great  actress 
broke  articles  right  and  left,  and  she  flew  about  with 
such  vigour  and  energy  and  made  such  a  terrific  row 
that  at  one  moment  the  footman  and  four  maids  rushed 
into  the  room,  under  the  impression  apparently  that 
the  "  deux  Messieurs  Anglais  "  were  busily  engaged 
in  the  assassination  of  their  much- loved  mistress.    Sarah 


112  MY    VISIT    TO    PARIS 

Bernhardt  quickly  pacified  them,  and  then,  greatly  to 
their  joy,  she  bade  them  remain  and  witness  the  further 
experiments.  At  the  conclusion  of  this  most  feverish 
and  exciting  morning,  and  just  as  we  were  bidding 
her  farewell,  Madame  Sarah  Bernhardt  shouted  out, 
"  But,  Richepin,  I  must  see  this  again.  I  must  once 
more  perform  '  avec  mon  tres  cher  M.  Capper.'  "  My 
entrepreneur  saw  his  opportunity  at  once.  Did  he 
ever  miss  one  in  his  eventful  life? 

"  Madame,"  he  said,  with  all  that  empressement 
which  so  helped  him  to  his  remarkable  successes  in  this 
direction — *'  Madame,  and  so  you  shall,  and  I  will  tell 
you  how.  I  fear  it  will  be  impossible  for  you  to  come 
to  Mr.  Capper's  reception  at  our  hotel  next  Wednes- 
day evening,  because  you  will  be  on  the  stage  at 
that  hour,  but  if  you  are  willing  to  give  a  reception  to 
your  host  of  friends  here,  in  your  Oiwn  house,  at  mid- 
night the  same  evening,  Mr.  Capper  will  give  a  special 
performance  in  your  honour.  1  only  stipulate  that  you 
send  .out  the  invitations  at  once,  and  that  your  friends 
are  asked  to  meet  Mr.  Alfred  Capper,  the  famous 
English    thought-reader." 

The  actress  was  delighted,  and  insisted  on  our 
remaining  to  luncheon  with  her  and  M.  Richepin, 
so  that  Ave  might  elaborate  all  the  necessary 
details. 

I  shall  now  let  Mrs.  Crawford,  a  very  famous  lady 
journalist  of  that  period,  upwards  of  thirty  years  ago, 
tell  the  story  as  she  told  it  at  the  time  in  the  column^ 
of  Truth  of  that  wonderful  reception  of  mine  at  the 
Hotel  Continental,  and  of  the  still  more  interesting 
reception  that  was  given  in  my  honour  later  on  the 
same    night    at    Madame    Sarah    Bernhardt's    house. 

"  Last  week  a  handsome  and  self-assured  military- 
looking  gentleman   came  up   to  me   in  a  public  place, 


MY    VISIT    TO    PARIS  113 

He  was  bald,  and  far  on  the  shady  side  of  forty,  and 
slightly  resembled  the  late  Due  de  Morny.  He  shook 
hands  with  me  and  said,  '  I  have  been  to  your  house 
to  see  you,  but  did  not  find  you.  Allow  me  to  introduce 
my  friend,  Mr.  Capper.'  'You  should,'  I  thought, 
'get  yourself  first  introduced.'  It  turned  out,  in  after 
conversation,  that  I  had  kno-\\Ti  the  person  who  thus 
accosted   me    during    the   Empire,    and    that   his   name 

was  .     But  so  many  faces  had  since  passed  before 

my  gaze,  that  his  countenance,  which  was  then  very 
young,  and  associated  with  the  uniform  of  a  cornet 
in  the  12th  Lancers,  was  obliterated  from  my  memory. 
I  bowed  to  Mr.  Capper  and  he  to  me.  The  citizen  of 
the  world  proceeded  to  tell  me  who  Mr.  Capper  was, 
and  about  his  thought-reading  feats,  performed  at  Marl- 
borough House,  with  the  Prince  of  Wales,  Mr.  Chris- 
topher Sykes,  the  Princess  and  Lord  Sufiield  as  '  sub- 
jects.' The  diviner  of  thoughts,  in  listening  to  the 
leoniment  (pray  don't  take  this  word  in  a  bad  sense), 
was  apparently  unconcerned  and  cool  as  a  cucumber. 
I  saw  that  he  was  '  a  type,'  and  he  soon  aroused  my 
curiosity.  He  was  as  English  as  he  could  be,  raw,  and 
still  not  at  all  uncouth  ;  very  tall,  and  had  the  air  of 
a  young  squire  on  the  stage,  who  had  been  transformed 
by  a  tender  passion  from  a  gawky  hobbledehoy  into  a 
beau  having  nothing  coxcombical  about  him.  The  com- 
plexion, naturally  fair  and  pale,  had  been  brought  by 
sea  air  up  to  a  healthy  and  uniform  red  tone,  which 
made  blonde  eyelashes  appear  milk  white.  The  dark- 
blue  eyes  were  inquiring,  shrewd,  and  now  and  then  a 
bit  sly  ;  but  it  was  clear  they  were  not  in  the  head  of  an 
Artful  Dodger.  Capper's  profile  struck  me  as  being 
the  image  of  Cadet  Coquelin's.  His  mouth  needed  a 
sustained  effort  to  keep  it  closed.  Finally,  the  ex- 
cornet  of  Lancers  asked  me  to  a  thought-reading  exhi- 

9 


114  MY    VISIT    TO    PARIS 

bition  at  the  Continental,  and  promised  to  send  a  formal 
invitation.  '  What  a  delightful  Barnum  !  '  I  said  to 
my^self  as  he  took  his  leave.  '  I  should  ask  him  to  be 
my  impresario  were  I  going  on  a  starring  tour  of  any 
kind  in  the  United  States.'  He  spoke  at  the  rate  of  a 
hundred  miles  an  hour  without  making  himself  a  bore, 
and  covered  me  with  compliments  ;  but  so  adroitly 
that  I  did  not  blush  once,  as  he  was  laying  them  on. 
All  the  time  Capper  did  not  say  a  word.  I  did  not  well 
know  what  to  make  of  him. 

"  In  due  time  the  invitation  came.  It  was  printed  on 
-Japanese  paper  of  a  crape  texture,  and  had  an  orna- 
mental border  in  a  Far  Eastern  style.  At  ten  o'clock  in 
the  evening  named  in  the  invitation  I  went  to  the  Conti- 
nental, and  was  shown  into  the  large  salon.  The  rows 
of  chairs  and  arm-chairs  placed  round  the  large  apart- 
ment were  soon  filled.  Perrin,  the  manager  of  the 
Frangais,  and  Jules  Claretie  had  come  from  Ville 
d'Avray.  Garnier,  the  architect  of  the  Opera  House, 
had  agreed  to  be  a  '  subject.'  The  private  secretary  of 
M.  Grevy  and  a  Foreign  Office  ofiicial  had  no  objection 
to  be  on  the  committee.  There  were  three  cures  in  the 
company,  and  a  bishop  in  partibus  infideliam.  Sarah 
Bernhardt   had   been    invited,    but    sent   word    that    she 

would  prefer  to  see  Capper  and after  midnight  at 

her  villa,  where  the  former  might  exhibit.  Jules 
Clouvet,  the  novelist,  whose  real  name  is  Beaurepaire, 
and  whose  function  as  Procurator  of  the  Republic  is 
to  hunt  down  knaves  and  felons,  was  half -hidden  in 
a  window  embrasure. 

"  I  was  disappointed  in  not  seeing  the  Princess  Pasch- 
koff,  who  lives  at  the  Continental,  and  was  to  have  come 
but  did  not.  The  Princess  had  consulted  Capper  on  a 
very  delicate  point,  and  one  he  was  unable  to  deal  with, 
i.e.    whether   she   would   or  would   not   commit   suicide 


MY    VISIT    TO    PARIS  115 

next  winter.  She  asked  him  to  give  a  stance  in  her 
rooms.  As  an  inducement  to  him  to  close  with  her  offer 
she  proposed  to  invite  the  ladies  on  the  staff  of  the  Gil 
Bias. 

"It  was  a  quarter  to  eleven  before and  Capper 

emerged  from  the  next  room,  and  took  up  a  position 
behind  a  table.  They  had  each  a  great  expanse  of  white 
shirt-front,  and  a  small  white  nosegay  in  the  coat  button- 
hole. The  diviner's  hair  (a  golden-brown)  was  brushed 
flat,  with  English  neatness.  I  imagined,  and  subse- 
quently heard,  that  he  and  his  companion  were  very 
nervous.  Capper  v^^as  afraid  that  it  would  be  regarded 
as  an  impertinence  to  exhibit  before  a  room  filled  with 
somebodies.  A  committee  was  next  formed  of  persons, 
some  of  whom  might  be  credulous  or  unscientific,  but 
who  were  all  above  being  accomplices  in  an  imposture. 
The  exceedingly  sharp  M.  Meyer,  who  is  proprietor 
of  La  Lantenie,  was  a  committee-man.  He  had  brought 
his  beautiful  wife  with  him. 

"  Capper,  I  thought,  signalled  to  his  bear-leader  that 
he  would  like  to  retire  then  and  there  from  the  trial  of 
skill.  The  other  seemed  to  take  no  notice,  but,  to  give 
him  time  to  regain  coolness,  made  a  speech  in  French. 
Though  he  spoke  well,  and  complimented  us  all  round, 
I  was  impatient  for  him  to  (figuratively  speaking)  pro- 
nounce the  blessing,  and  let  the  performance  commence. 
He  got  through  his  discourse  at  last,  and  Capper  had  to 
s'executer.  He  and  left  the  room  when  the  '  sub- 
jects '  were  hiding  'objects.'  The  failures  were  very 
few,  and,  indeed,  were  almost  successes.  With  Garnier 
as  a  subject,  Capper  never  failed,  because  the  former 
does  not  allow  his  mental  attention  to  wander.  This 
famous  architect,  artist,  and  man  is  this — of  middle 
height,  takes  striding  steps,  as  if  measuring  building 
ground,  wears  loose  clothes,  has  a  shock  of  curly  black 


ii6  MY    VISIT    TO     PARIS 

hair,  burning  black  eyes,  a  swarthy  complexion,  hollow 
cheeks,  prominent  cheek-bones,  a  William  III  nose,  and 
a  coarse  and  not  firmly  closed  mouth.  The  searches 
were  made  in  the  blind-man's-buff  way.  Naturally,  the 
action  of  the  diviner,  and  particularly  in  the  legs,  was 
not  statuesque.  He  had,  however,  in  a  plastic  point 
of  view,  the  advantage  of  a  slim  figure.  A  burly  fellow 
in  a  swallow-tailed  coat,  with  body  bent  and  legs  apart, 
rushing  blindfold  round  a  large  room,  is  the  most 
grotesque  object  in  creation.  In  the  '  search  without 
contact,'  the  subject  held  the  back  of  his  hand  some 
inches  below  Capper's  palm  and  fingers,  which  were 
curved  downwards.  It  appeared  to  me  that,  in  this 
kind  of  ordeal,  the  subject  had  the  harder  work  of  the 
two  in  avoiding  contact,  which,  I  am  certain,  did  not 
in  any  of  the  experiments  I  witnessed,  take  place. 
Bouquets  were  taken  to  ladies  who  were  thought  of. 
The  number,  215,  which  M.  Meyer  had  in  his  mind, 
was  picked  out  of  a  row  of  ten  metallic  ciphers. 
Garnier,  in  imagination,  bound  down  a  corpulent  by- 
stander on  the  table,  and  stuck  him  with  a  penknife 
at  the  lower  verge  of  a  white  waistcoat.  Capper  picked 
out  of  seven  penknives  the  instrument  with  which  the 
murder,  or  rather  the  act  of  butchery,  was  in  fancy 
accomplished,  put  his  finger  on  the  spot  where  the  blade, 
in  the  imagination  of  the  butcher,  entered,  and  struck 
with  his  fist  the  part  of  the  table  where  the  victim  was 
immolated.  This  part  of  the  exhibition  caused  great 
hilarity. 

"  At  Sarah's,  Capper  was  in  search  of  Richepin,  of 
whom  the  hostess  thought,  upstairs  and  downstairs  and 
in  my  lady's  chamber.  Sarah  was  the  subject.  The 
gifted  actress  had  a  lot  of  other  friends  around  her. 
There  was  a  luxuriantly  spread-out  table  in  the  dining- 
room.     Sarah  stuck  a  pin  in  a  pear  in  a  heap  of  fruit. 


MY    VISIT    TO     PARIS  117, 

Capper  found  it.  The  soiree  became  a  matinee,  seeing 
that  it  only  ended  at  four  in  the  morning. 

"  I  have  had  some  private  talk  with  Capper.  '  Pray 
don't  call  me  a  thought -reader/  he  very  honestly  said. 
'It  is  quite  a  wrong  term.  I  don't  read  thoughts. 
Nobody  can.  What  I  can  do  is  to  detect  a  subtle, 
physical  impulse  proceeding  by  a  thought.  I  could 
perhaps  describe  the  sensation  when  there  is  contact  ; 
but  I  can  with  difficulty  do  so  when  there  is  no  contact, 
it  almost  defying  definition.  I  think  I  may  risk  saying 
that  my  palm  and  fingers  are  conscious  of  a  sort  of 
magnetic  or  sympathetic  current.  At  any  rate,  there 
is  a  something,  though  it  is  in  the  ordinary  sense  im- 
palpable, that  I  feel,  and  more  distinctly  when  I  am 
blindfold  than  when  I  am  not.'  Capper  spoke  m  a 
sincere  tone,  and  impressed  me  as  being  very  honest 
and  open.  I  asked  him,  while  we  talked,  to  sit  in  a 
strong  light,  in  order  to  see  well  the  expression  of  his 
eyes  and  facial  nerves  and  muscles.  He  had  no  objec- 
tion, and  looked  me  fair  in  the  face  without  blinking 
of  the  eyelids  or  any  kind  of  effort.  What  I  have  seen 
of  him  disposes  me  in  his  favour.  Though  knowing' 
well  what  he  is  about,  he  is  ingenuous,  and  has  the 
ways  and  little  turns  of  a  person  who  has  been  well 
brought  up,  and  is  blessed  with  a  good  temper  and 
disposition." 

On  the  Thursday  morning  there  was  not  a  paper  in 
Paris  which  did  not  contain  a  lengthy  and  highly  eulo- 
gistic account  of  my  reception  at  the  Hotel  Continental, 
and  we  announced  another  seance  in  the  grand  salon  to 
take  place  the  following  Thursday  evening,  the  price  of 
admission  to  be  20  francs.  No  less  than  250  people 
paid  for  admission.  This  was  quite  remarkable,  because 
my  readers  must  bear  in  mind  that  Paris  at  this  season 
of  the  year  was  practically  empty  of  all  the  ordinary 


ii8  MY    VISIT    TO     PARIS 

social  people.  On  the  Wednesday  evening  of  that  week 
we  arrived  back  in  London.  When  one  considers  that 
all  this  was  done  in  twelve  short  days,  and  without  any 
preliminary  arrangements,  I  think  most  people  will 
admit  it  was  a  very  remarkable  achievement,  an  achieve- 
ment due,  I  frankly  admit,  to  the  ability  and  energy 
and  personality  of  my  very  extraordinary  and  remark- 
able colleague,  and  therefore  it  is  hardly  surprising  that 
with  such  wonderful  preliminary  success  I  at  once  can- 
celled all  my  winter  engagements  and  signed  a  contract 
to  go  with  him  on  a  tour  of  two  years,  during  which  we 
were  to  visit  all  the  quarters  of  the  globe,  leavin,g 
London  in  the  coming  October.  Living  as  I  did  then 
in  Southampton^  I  immediately  announced  a  public  fare- 
well performance  in  my  native  town,  when  the  plan  of 
the  hall  at  which  I  was  to  appear  was  displayed  at  a 
certain  well-known  music-shop  in  the  town.  Now  it 
so  chanced  that  just  before  the  day  itself  there  walked 
into  the  shop  a  well-known  baronet,  whose  name  I  will 
not  divulge  for  obvious  reasons,  who  was  on  his  way 
from  Havre  to  London  and  who  was  spending  a  day 
or  two  in  Southampton  en  route.  Catching  sight  of  my 
poster  in  the  window,  he  cried  out,  "  God  bless  my 
soul,  what  an  extraordinary  thing  !  I  was  just  writing 
to  Truth  about  that  scoundrel  Capper." 

"  Scoundrel  Capper  !  "  cried  the  owner  of  the 
shop,  "what  on  earth  do  you  mean?  It  is  quite  plain 
you  don't  know  Southampton  or  you  would  never  talk 
of  one  of  our  most  respected  citizens  in  that  manner." 

"  Well,"  replied  the  baronet,  "  read  Truth  to-day. 
I  can  only  say  Mr.  Capper  must  be  either  a  bit  of  a  fool 
or  a  bit  of  a  scoundrel  to  be  associated  with  such  a 
hopeless  blackguard  as  that  man  he  is  associated  with. 
Why,"  he  went  on  excitedly,  "  he's  the  most  awful 
ruffian  that  ever  lived.      Very  plausible,   no  doubt,  but 


MY    VISIT    TO    PARIS  119 

a  hopeless  blackguard,  and  I  shall  go  and  advise  Mr. 
Capper  to  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  him  and  to 
cancel  his  engagement  with  him  at  once." 

Well,  to  cut  a  long  story  short  this  good  baronet 
called  on  me  and  had  a  long  talk  with  me,  during  which 
he  amply  satisfied  me  that  my  unfortunate  entrepreneur 
was  indeed  a  blackguard  of  the  most  hopeless  descrip- 
tion. "  But  don't  take  my  word  for  it,  Mr.  Capper. 
Come  up  to  town  with  me  to-morrow  and  see  Mr. 
Labouchere  for  yourself."  Which  accordingly  I  did, 
the  famous  editor  receiving  me  with  the  words,  "  Well, 
Mr.  Capper,  you  can't  be  much  of  a  thought -reader 
if  you  are  taken  in  by  such  a  scoundrel  and  such  a 
charlatan  as  that  man.  For  your  own  sake,  and  never 
mind  how  well  your  tour  promises,  you  must  cancel  your 
agreement  and  refuse  to  go  abroad  with  him.  He 
will  certainly  ruin  and  discredit  you  for  ever  if  you  do." 

I  then  and  there  adopted  Mr.  Labouchere's  advice,  and 
wrote  to  my  late  friend  and  told  him  of  my  decision. 
I  received  by  return  a  letter  from  the  famous  legal 
firm  of  Wontner  threatening  me  with  all  kinds  of  terrors 
if  I  did  not  carry  out  my  engagement.  I  went  again 
and  saw  Mr.  Labouchere,  who  at  once  gave  me  a 
letter  to  the  late  Sir  George  Lewis. 

To  use  a  modern  and  very  expressive  phrase,  thai 
"  put  the  lid  "  on  the  whole  matter  and  I  never  heard 
any  more  from  the  poor  fellow.  I  say,  advisedly,  poor 
fellow,  for  he  had  many  amiable  qualities,  only  un- 
fortunately he  was  just  one  of  those  men  who  simply 
couldn't  run  straight,  try  as  they  may.  However,  it 
taught  me  a  lesson  early  in  life  which  has  been  of  the 
greatest  use  to  me  ever  since,  for  it  enabled  me  to 
realize  in  a  very  practical  manner  the  meaning  of  the 
old   proverb,    "  All  is   not   gold   that   glitters." 

One  of  the  most  interesting  events  of  my  whole  lifo 


I20  MY    VISIT    TO    PARIS 

occurred  during  my  visit  to  Paris,  and  I  will  relate  it 
here.  It  happened  that  one  day  the  Prince  de  Sagan 
gave  a  luncheon  in  my  honour.  On  the  followin,g 
morning  I  was  walking  in  the  Tuileries  when  I  suddenly 
encountered  my  host  of  the  previous  day  walking  with 
no  less  a  person  than  the  President  of  the  French 
Republic.  As  the  Prince  passed  me  he  whispered  a 
word  to  the  President  and  then  came  rapidly  up  to  me. 
"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Capper,"  said  he.  "  I  have  just 
been  telling  the  President  of  your  wonderful  perform- 
ances, and  he  is  so  interested  that  he  is  anxious  for 
me  to  present  you  to  His  Excellency,"  which  the  Prince 
forthwith  proceeded  to  do,  greatly  to  the  delight  of  a 
young  man  fresh,  as  I  was,  from  the  English  provinces. 

The  President  received  me  very  graciously,  "  and," 
said  he,  "  I  don't  see  why  you  shouldn't  give  me 
an   exhibition  of  your   wonderful   skill,   Mr.    Capper." 

So  then  and  there  he  and  the  Prince  de  Sagan  retired 
a  little  way  and  hid  a  gold  ring  in  the  bushes.  Then 
I  was  blindfolded,  and  together  the  President  and  I  went 
rushing  wildly  through  the  lovely  and  historic  gardens 
of  the  Tuileries  until  I  had  successfully  discovered  the 
hidden  article. 

This  little  scene  created  a  great  sensation,  and  when  I 
unbandaged  my  eyes  I  found  that  the  President  and 
I  were  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  curious  and  excited 
Parisians  who  were  much  intrigued  as  to  what  on  earth 
their  much-loved  and  respected  President  could  possibly 
be  doing  with  an  Englishman  who  to  them  seemed  more 
mad  than  even  the  ordinary  run  of  his  extraordinary 
countrymen. 


CHAPTER    X 

A  STUDY   IN   AUDIENCES 

Audiences  are  at  once  the  joy  and  anxiety  of  the 
entertainer.  It  is  curious  to  reflect  that  to  each  enter- 
tainer is  his  own  audience — the  Shakespearean  actor, 
the  musical  comedy  favourite,  the  musician,  the  singer, 
the  reciter,  the  lecturer,  each  has  to  study  the  special 
idiosyncrasies  of  his  audience  ;  each  has  to  bear  in 
mind  their  little  foibles,  their  likes  and  dislikes,  their 
particular  preferences.  For  instance,  I  can  imagine 
no  more  distressful  position  than  that  of  the  Shake- 
spearean heavy  tragedian  compelled  to  amuse  a  light- 
hearted  Gaiety  audience,  whilst  the  exponent  of 
Wagner's  most  overwhelming  operas  would  be  hard 
put  to  it  to  meet  with  the  approval  of  an  audience 
which  had  enthusiastically  gathered  themselves  together 
in  expectation  of  listening  to  the  exquisite  and  tuneful 
melodies  of  Beethoven,  Mendelssohn,  or  Arthur 
Sullivan.  But  a  thought-reader,  thank  goodness  ! 
stands  alone  and  appeals  to  all.  Why  that  should  be 
it  is  difficult  to  say,  perhaps,  but  such  is  the  fact.  He 
cannot  very  well  get  to  loggerheads  with  his  audience, 
as  might  easily  happen  to  a  public  lecturer  ;  and  yet 
more  than  most  the  success  of  a  thought-reader  is 
bound  up  in  the  demeanour  and  devoted  attention  of 
his  audience.  All  entertainers  depend  to  an  enormous 
extent  upon  the  mood  of  their  audience  ;  I  far  more 
than  most.      But  where  my  good  fortune  comes  in  so 

121 


122  A    STUDY    IN     AUDIENCES 

markedly  is  that  my  performance  appeals  to  an  extra- 
ordinary variety  of  all  classes  of  the  community^^  who 
nevertheless  regard  the  performance  from  an  equally 
varied  point  of  view.  My  own  preference  is  naturally 
enough  for  cultured  and  educated  people  ;  but  I  meet 
with  the  warmest  sympathy  and  appreciation  from  all 
classes,  so  that  I  feel  myself  equally  at  home  whether 
performing  in  Mayfair  or  in  the  People's  Palace  in  the 
East  End.  I  have  known  a  lunatic  to  express  keen 
and  clever  appreciation  of  what  he  has  seen  at  my 
seances  equally  with  a  Royal  princess  ;  a  pauper  in 
a  workhouse,  whom  one  would  have  imagined  was  weary 
of  the  world  and  everything  in  it,  ha,s  been  just  as 
delighted  and  enthralled  as  a  youngster  at  Osborne 
or  a  cadet  at  Sandhurst  or  Woolwdch. 

I  have  known  a  village  yokel  enthusiastically 
approving  of  the  same  item  in  my  programme  as  had 
so  vigorously  appealed  the  previous  week  to  a  fashion- 
able West  End  physician,  who  complimented  me  on 
my  entertainment  at  a  meeting  of  the  British  Medical 
Association.  The  proof  of  the  pudding  is  in  the  eating, 
and  it  is  to  demonstrate  the  truth  of  these  statements 
that  I  devote  this  chapter  to  a  description  of 
the  varied  audiences  before  whom  I  have  performed 
during  the  last  thirty  years.  I  may  add  that  as  a 
whole  the  general  calibre  of  audiences  has  improved 
immensely  since  the  'eighties,  especially  in  the  lower 
ranks  of  society.  Intelligence,  sympathy,  and  imagi- 
nation are  far  more  widespread  than  they  were  in  those 
comparatively  simple  days,  and  this  fact,  instead  of 
making  one's  work  more  difficult,  renders  it  infinitely 
more  enjoyable.      It  is   delightful  to   be  met  half-way. 

In  the  chapters  which  have  preceded  this  I  have 
specifically  alluded  to  and  described  only  my  encounters 
with   very    distinguished   people,    but    in    this   chapter    I 


A    STUDY    IN    AUDIENCES  123 

get  down  to  the  mass  of  the  people  themselves,  and 
therefore  the  chapter  possesses  a  certain  human  interest 
which  will  doubtless  appeal  to  the  majority  of  my 
readers.  An  audience  composed  of  fascinating  East 
Enders  at  the  People's  Palace  is  as  pleasurable  to 
me  in  its  way  as  an  equally  fascinating  group  of 
Royalties  at  Windsor  Castle,  and  the  many  and  varied 
amiable  and  charming  characteristics  of  a  burglar  or 
a  lunatic  have  always  been  as  markedly  in  evidence 
whenever  I  have  had  the  good  fortune  to  number  them 
amongst  my  audiences  as  are  the  same  characteristics 
in  an  assemblage  of  smart  people  in  Berkeley  Square. 
And  this  remark  applies  with  equal  truth  and  force  to 
audiences  abroad.  Quite  unique  from  an  entertainer's 
point  of  view  have  been  my  experiences  with  native 
audiences  in  India  and  the  Far  East.  I  was  immensely 
amused  by  the  audience  that  attended  my  performance 
at  Kandy,  for  instance,  two -thirds  of  them  being  Tamil 
coolies,  the  rest  of  the  audience,  which  numbered  at 
least  seven  hundred  people,  consisting  of  the  big-pots 
of  that  lovely  district,  English  and  Cingalese.  At  the 
same  time  I  was  a  little  disconcerted  and  considerably 
annoyed  at  the  manner  in  which  my  efforts  were  re- 
ceived. The  humbler  part  of  the  audience  was 
obviously  under  a  total  misapprehension  of  the  whole 
thing,  most  of  them  apparently  being  under  the  im- 
pression that  I  was  playing  a  most  splendid  and 
superb  version  of  the  popular  old  game  of  blind  man's 
buff,  whilst  all  of  them  were  wildly  excited  at  my 
instantaneous  success  in  finding  the  hidden  articles. 
But  to  me  it  was  as  disconcerting  as  it  was  extra- 
ordinarily humorous  when,  standing  up  on  their  seats 
as  I  neared  the  hidden  object,  they  would  scream  out 
in  unison,  "  Go  it  !  Go  it  !  Hot  !  Hot  I  Hot!  " 
Just  as,  if  I   had  hesitated  at  all  or  advanced  in  the 


124  A    STUDY    IN     AUDIENCES 

wrong   direction,   they   would  have   cried   out,    "  Cold  ! 
Cold  !  " 

Clergymen  have  frequently,  I  may  say  on  innumer- 
able occasions,  secured  my  services  not  only  for  their 
parish  gatherings,  but  for  various  charities  in  which 
they  have  been  specially  interested,  and  hundreds  of 
secretaries  of  charitable  institutions  throughout  the 
kingdom  have  engaged  me  on  behalf  of  their  own 
particular  charity. 

But  so  far  as  I  am  concerned  I  myself  am 
devoted  to  a  school  audience,  whether  boys  or  girls, 
and  I  have  been  the  guest  of  almost  every  head- 
master of  nearly  every  public  and  preparatory  school 
in  the  kingdom.  So  much  so  is  this  the  case  that 
when  I  was  recently  in  India  I  encountered  a  dis- 
tinguished colonel,  who  thus  greeted  me  :  "  Mr. 
Capper,  at  last  we  meet  face  to  face,  and  yet  though 
you  don't  know  me  your  face  is  as  familiar  to  me  as 
the  King's.  I  first  saw  you  when  you  gave  a  per- 
formance at  my  preparatory  school,  Tabor's,  at  Cheam  ; 
then  you  came  to  Wellington  when  I  was  there  ;  then 
I  attended  your  performance  at  Magdalen  College, 
where  I  was  an  undergraduate  for  one  year  ;  and  the 
last  time  I  saw  you  was  when  I  was  a  cadet  at  Sand- 
hurst. And  now  you  come  here  to-day,  and  for  the 
first  time  I  can  speak  to  you  and  actually  shake  hands 
with  you.  You  must  be  my  guest  whilst  you  are  in 
Cawnpore." 

I  have  a  pleasant  and  humorous  memory  of  one  of 
the  most  distinguished  headmasters  of  the  day.  It 
was  a  very  hot  night  and  I  had  just  concluded  a  very 
arduous  entertainment  at  his  school  when  he  seized 
me  by  the  arm  and  dragged  me  into  the  dining-room. 
Then,  closing  his  eyes  in  imitation  of  myself,  he  rushed 
me   round   the    room    twice,    then,    seizing   hold   of   the 


A    STUDY    IN    AUDIENCES  125 

whisky-bottle,  he  plunged  it  into  my  hand.  "  There  !  " 
he  cried.  "  Am  I  right  ;  that  is  what  you  are  think- 
ing of?  "  I  am  bound  to  add  that  his  first  amateur 
shot  at  thought-reading  was  a  great  success,  for  as 
a  matter  of  fact  I  had  been  thinking  of  that  whisky- 
and-soda  aJl  that  long,  tiring  evening.  I  do  not 
mention  this  dear,  good  man  by  name,  but  to  look  at 
him  one  would  never  have  dreamed  of  so  grave  and 
austere  a  person  ever  letting  himself  go  in  so  light- 
hearted  and  frivolous  a  fashion.  But  then,  as  I  say, 
in  my  o^vn  experience,  headmasters  are  almost  invariably 
amongst  the  most  human  and  genial  and  spontaneous 
people  I   have  ever  met. 

Through  the  instrumentality  of  Mr.  Harry  Tennent, 
whose  name  will  be  familiar  to  Oxonians  of  the 
last  ten  years  as  a  popular  President  of  the 
O.U.D.S.,  which  was  founded  by  James  Adderley, 
Arthur  Bourchier,  my  dear  old  and  much-lamented 
friend  Claude  Nugent,  and  others,  I  continually 
appeared  at  their  smoking  concerts  and  at  other 
University  functions.  Not  only  was  Mr.  Tennent 
an  exceedingly  able  am.ateur  actor,  but  his  services 
were  always  in  great  demand  as  a  singing  humorist 
of  the  very  highest  type  at  the  piano.  I  was  perform- 
ing at  one  of  these  famous  Sunday  evening  concerts 
given  by  the  O.U.D.S.,  and  sanctioned  by  the  authori- 
ties, at  the  same  time  that  the  present  Bishop  of  London 
was  delivering  an  address  for  some  great  charity  at 
the  Town  Hall.  Chancing  to  meet  his  lordship  one 
day  shortly  afterwards,  I  expressed  the  great  regret  I 
sincerely  felt  at  missing  an  address  which  I  knew  would 
have  given  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  listen  to. 
Unfortunately,  I  added,  I  myself  was  engaged  per- 
forming that  very  evening. 

"  Oh,    my    dear    fellow  !  "    cried    the    genial    Bishop, 


126  A    STUDY    IN     AUDIENCES 

"  curiously  enough  I  was  dreadfully  disappointed  too. 
I  know  those  Sunday  Concerts  at  the  O.U.D.S.  do  more 
good  than  harm  to  the  undergraduates,  and  if  I  had  not 
been  compelled  to  be  present  at  the  Town  Hall  I 
should  have  secured  an  invitation  to  the  '  Smoker.'  " 
I  only  mention  this  little  incident  as  an  instance  of  the 
popular  Bishop's  remarkable  broad-mindedness  and 
charming   humanity   and   geniality. 

Talking  of  the  Bishop  of  London  reminds  me  of 
a  little  anecdote  he  often  tells  against  himself.  He 
was  walking  down  a  slum  one  day  when  he  saw  a 
filthy  little  boy  making  mud-pies  in  the  gutter.  "  What 
are  you  doing,  my  boy?  "  said  the  Bishop.  "  Building 
a  kerfedral,"  replied  the  urchin.  "  Oh,  indeed,"  said 
Dr.  Ingram.  "Where's  your  bishop?"  "Ain't  got 
dirt  enough  for  a  bishop,"  was  the  disconcerting  reply. 

Here  is  another  little  story  of  the  Bishop  of 
London  at  the  Front  the  other  day.  He  was  walking 
along  the  roadside  when  he  encountered  a  large  body 
of  French  troops,  who  vigorously  cheered  him.  The 
good  Bishop  was  much  delighted,  and  although  not 
a  very  accomplished  French  scholar,  he  thought  he 
would  try  and  say  a  few  words,  which  he  did  as 
follows  :  "  Je  nc  parle  pas  le  Frangais  tr6s  bien  et 
Je  ne  puis  pas  faire  beaucoup  pour  vous,  mais  je 
demanderai  le  bon  Dieu  qu'il  vous  btessera  tous  les 
jours  !  " 

Once  I  had  a  most  extraordinary  audience,  but  a 
very  appreciative  one.  I  was  invited  by  a  well-known 
London  clergyman  to  give  an  entertainment  at  a  club 
in  Chelsea,  which  comprised  amongst  its  members  some 
of  the  best-known  thieves,  burglars,  and  cab-lifters  in 
the  metropolis.  The  club  was  formed  by  philanthropic 
persons  with  the  idea  of  refining  and  elevating  this 
class  of  the  community.      They  were  perfectly  delight- 


A    STUDY    IN     AUDIENCES  127 

ful  men,  perhaps  the  most  charming  I  ever  met.  I 
was  warned  to  keep  my  coat  and  umbrella  well  in 
sight  during  the  performance.  At  the  close  of  the 
evening  a  hearty  vote  of  thanks  was  proposed  to  me 
by  a  well-known  cab-lifter,  seconded  by  a  distinguished 
burglar,  and  carried  unanimously.  I  hear  that  club 
has  now  ceased  for  want  of  support,  which,  I  hope, 
speaks  well  for  the  decrease  of  crime  in  our  midst. 

I  have  often  performed  in  lunatic  asylums. 

Once,  to  my  great  regret,  I  mistook  a  much- 
respected  doctor  for  a  lunatic  of  a  very  dangerous 
type.  My  word,  how  angry  he  was  !  At  another 
asylum  the  performance  was  delayed  in  consequence  of 
the  "  Emperor  of  Russia  "  disputing  with  the  "  Prin- 
cess of  Wales  "  as  to  who  should  enter  the  room  first, 
His  Majesty  vigorously  demanding  precedence,  but  he 
was  kind  enough  to  send  for  me  after  the  performance 
and  to  express  his  great  approval  of  my  "  efforts  to 
entertain  him."  I  remember  a  poor  lady  at  another 
celebrated  private  asylum  came  up  to  m.e  and  told  me 
that,  though  she  had  tried  all  the  best  hotels  in  Europe 
— and  I  have  no  doubt  she  had — yet  that  none  of  them 
was  equal'  in  comfort  and  luxury  to  her  present  abode. 
It  is,  of  course,  a  difficult  thing  to  entertain  mad 
people  ;  but,  on  the  whole,  they  are  more  appreciative 
than  one  would  expect.  I  had  a  very  touching  and 
pathetic  performance  once  to  give.  At  the  invitation 
of  the  Rev.  Arthur  Brinckman,  I  appeared  at  the 
Red  Lamp  Coffee  Rooms,  under  the  Adelphi 
Arches,  when  my  audience  was  composed  entirely 
of  women,  two  hundred  of  them — fallen,  degraded 
— an  audience  which  combined  all  the  elements  of 
tragedy  and  pathos  and  heart-breaking  misery.  Mr. 
Brinckman,  a  policeman,  and  myself  were  the  only 
men  present  on  that  occasion. 


128  A    STUDY    IN     AUDIENCES 

I  had  an  interesting  evening  once  on  board 
the  Britannia,  when  the  enthusiastic  cadets  crowded 
the  deck,  climbed  the  masts,  hung  from  the  beams, 
to  see  what  I  was  doing.  Some  of  the  cleverest  and 
keenest  audiences  I  have  ever  had  have  been  made  up 
of  cadets  at  Sandhurst  or  officers  in  different  regiments. 
Soldiers  are  as  keen  as  any  in  these  things,  and  I  have 
had  many  a  delightful  evening  in  the  Cavalry  Barracks 
at  Windsor.  I  have  appeared  several  times  before  the 
dons  and  tutors  and  undergraduates  in  the  various 
colleges  at  Oxford  and  Cambridge. 

Sometimes  people  in  my  audience  express  disbelief 
in  my  powers,  and  insinuate  that  it  is  all  humbug.  A 
notable  instance  of  this  once  occurred.  It  took  place 
at  the  Green  Room  Club  smoking  concert,  when  my  dear 
old  friend  John  L.  Toole  presided.  I  expressed  the 
wish  that  he  should  be  my  medium.  He  refused,  so 
I  asked  Mr.  Maurice  Barrymore,  the  well-known 
American  actor,  to  help  me  ;  and,  after  a  successful 
experiment,  there  was  loud  applause.  Mr.  Toole  pro- 
posed a  vote  of  thanks  to  me  and  to  Mr.  Barrymore,, 
who,  he  insinuated,  was  my  accomplice.  This  elicited 
loud  cries  of  dissent  from  the  audience,  and  Mr.  Charles 
Warner  rose  and  said  that  the  statement  was  equally 
insulting  to  myself  and  Mr.  Barrymore.  Mr.  Toole 
was  obdurate,  and,  quite  forgetful  of  the  fact  that  I 
had  begged  him  to  be  my  medium,  he  maintained  that 
such  a  wonderful  result  could  not  be  obtained  without 
prearrangement,  and  there  was  universal  chaos.  Toole 
was  quite  sincere,  and,  in  a  way,  his  action  was  a 
genuine  compliment.  However,  Beerbohm  Tree, 
the  late  John  Clayton,  and  Paul  Merritt  took  my 
part,  and  the  discussion,  which  stopped  the  concert 
and  entertainment,  lasted  for  two  hours,  and  then  dear 
old  Johnny  Toole   cabled   me   to   his   side  and  told  me 


\7         ^>^'(WKti^U\^ 


Kcpiodin.(.tl  (hy  kind  lu-iniissioii)  I'ldni  Ihi'  Illuslialcd  Sportiiii^  and  Diainatic  \f7CS. 


A    STUDY    IN     AUDIENCES  129 

he  knew  nothing  about  thought-reading,  and  wouldn't 
have  allowed  the  contretemps  to  happen  for  the  world. 
He  behaved,  in  short,  as  he  always  did,  as  the  most 
delightful  of  men  and  as  the  most  perfect  gentleman 
in  the  world. 

The  theatrical  profession  always  make  an  exception- 
ally good  and  sympathetic  audience,  and  I  have 
appeared  at  many  functions  at  which  the  members  of 
the  profession  have  been  present,  and  I  have  noted 
that  they  are  almost  invariably  the  best  of  mediums. 
Miss  Ellen  Terry  has  been  my  subject,  and  a  very 
admirable  one  too,  on  several  occasions  ;  and  I  have 
pleasant  recollections  of  a  certain  evening,  not  so  very 
long  ago,  when  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  invited 
to  a  dinner  at  the  Cafe  Royal  of  Old  Bensonians,  when 
the  chair  was  taken  by  their  much- loved  chief,  F.  R. 
Benson,  a  man  universally  popular  both  in  and  out  of 
the  profession.  I  remember,  too,  the  wonderful  success 
I  had  with  Mr.  Henry  Ainley  that  same  evening  at  the 
Cafe  Royal,  and  Oscar  Asche,  as  well  as  Mr.  Courtice 
Pounds,  displayed  all  those  characteristics  which  are 
so  essential  to  the  success  of  such  an  entertainment  as 
my  own. 

Another  extraordinary  gathering  that  rises  to  my 
memory  as  I  write  was  that  at  a  garden-party  one 
summer  afternoon  in  Hemel  Hempstead.  It  was  com-, 
prised  of  Bohemians  pure  and  simple  :  writers,  actors^i 
artists,  journalists,  and  it  was  the  first  occasion  oh 
which  I  met  that  very  talented  noveHst,  Florence 
Marryat,  the  daughter  of  the  famous  Captain  Marryat. 
I  well  remember  our  host's  lavish  hospitality,  and  I 
was  prevailed  to  take  part  in  an  impromptu  pro- 
gramme. Florence  Marryat  proved  a  most  remarkable 
medium,  and  great  excitement  was  caused  by  a  doctor 
— who,    1    am   afraid,    had    lunched   not   wisely    but   too 

10 


I30  A    STUDY    IN     AUDIENCES 

well— publicly  declaring  that  such  a  performance  as 
mine  could  not  possibly  have  been  carried  through 
without  prearrangement,  and  that  Miss  Marryat  must 
have  been  in  collusion  with  me.  This,  though  really 
a  vast  compliment,  caused  the  greatest  possible  in- 
dignation amongst  the  audience,  who  insisted  on  his 
immediate  retraction  of  his  offensive  suggestion.  I 
thoroughly  enjoyed  the  incident,  but  still,  it  shows  one 
how  liable  one  is  to  such  interruptions,  although  I  am 
bound  to  acknowledge  that  the  more  such  interrup- 
tions occur  the  better  I  am  pleased,  as  they  are  really, 
though  not  intended  as  such,  the  very  best  testimonies 
to  one's  powers  that  one  could  possibly  either  desire  or 
deserve. 

I  once  spent  a  very  impressive  and  touching  evening 
with  the  dear  old  pensioners  at  Chelsea  Hospital.  It 
was  an  evening  of  historic  memories  in  that  magnificent 
Hall,  reared  by  the  love  and  genius  of  poor  Nell 
Gwynne.  The  whole  time  I  had  in  my  mind's  eye 
Hubert  Herkomer's  beautiful  picture,  "  The  Last 
Muster  " — or  was  it  the  chapel  scene,  when  the  Old 
Pensioner  passes  away  quietly  amongst  his  fellow- 
warriors  and  into  the  great  Presence  of  the  Almighty? 

Many  a  time  have  I  appeared  at  Primrose  League 
and  political  gatherings,  the  most  interesting  of  whicl?, 
that  I  can  recall  at  the  mofnent  being  a  party  at 
Lady  Hayter's,  in  Grosvenor  Square,  at  which  Mr. 
Gladstone,  who  was  then  Premier,  and  a,ll  his  Cabinet 
were  present.  It  was  a  brilliant  scene,  for  the  occasion 
was  one  of  both  great  social  and  political  importance, 
and  Royalty  and  all  the  Ambassa,dors  attended  in  all 
the  glory  of  ribbons  and  orders  and  decorations — in 
fact  the  whole  room  glittered  with  the  magnificence 
of  the  scene.  Whilst  I  retired  to  be  blindfolded  my 
hostess  and  some  of  the  leading  guests  gathered  in  a 


A    STUDY    IN    AUDIENCES  131 

bunch  together,  so  I  was  subsequently  informed  by 
a  friend,  to  decide  what  I  was  to  do.  "  Well,"  said 
the  old  Duke  of  Cambridge,  "  what  do  you  say  to  this? 
Mr.  Capper  shall  go  up  to  Mr.  Chamberlain  and  take 
the  orchid  from  his  buttonhole  and  put  it  in  Sir  William 
Harcourt's  coat."  The  suggestion  met  with  universal 
approval  and  great  laughter  and  amusement.  I  was 
then  called  in,  and  the  Italian  Ambassador  of  that  day, 
a  delightful  and  sympathetic  person,  whose  name  I 
forget,  acted  as  my  medium.  I  walked  straight  up 
to  Mr.  Chamberlain,  extracted  the  orchid  from  his  coat, 
then  conveyed  it — of  course  bUndfolded  all  the  time— to 
the  other  end  of  the  room,  where  Sir  William  Harcourt 
and  Mr.  Gladstone  were  seated,  keenly  interested  in 
the  whole  occurrence,  the  more  especially  that  Sir 
William  had  betted  a  small  sum  that  I  would  not  carry 
out  the  old  Duke's  suggestion.  "  Impossible,"  he 
declared  ;  "  quite  impossible  !  "  Mr.  Gladstone,  how- 
ever, took  my  part.  "  Well,  Harcourt,"  he  said,  "  I 
never  Hke  to  bet  on  the  unknown,  and  especially  where 
certain  mental  attributes  are  concerned,  but  I  will  take 
your  bet  this  time."  I,  as  I  say,  took  the  flower  across 
the  room  and  placed  it  in  Sir  William's  buttonhole, 
amidst  the  enthusiastic  applause  of  the  whole  company, 
especially  the  dear  old  Duke  and  the  two  great  states- 
men. "  It's  quite  wonderful,  Mr.  Capper,"  said  the  Grand 
Old  Man.  "  I  have  enjoyed  my  evening  immensely  ; 
it  has  been  quite  a  new  experience  to  me.  I  couldn't 
help  thinking  during  the  course  of  your  performance 
what  a  very  useful  talent  such  as  yours  would  be  to 
a  man  in  my  position.  I  wonder  what  your  terms  would 
be  to  come  as  my  Private  Secretary  !  " 

When,  in  the  year  1901,  the  Cambridge  crew  were 
in  training  at  Cookham,  and  were  the  guests  of  my 
friend  Colonel  Ricardo,  late  of  the  Grenadier  Guards, 


132  A    STUDY    IN     AUDIENCES 

I  formed  one  of  that  joyous  and  light-hearted  and  most 
interesting  house-party,  and  was  only  too  pleased,  at 
the  suggestion  of  our  excellent  host,  to  arrange  with 
my  brother  Charles,  the  well-known  whistler,  for  a 
special  performance  to  the  crew,  which  was  to  take 
place  at   Putney  the  night  before  the  great  race. 

The  Colonel  was  under  the  impression  that  a  proceed- 
ing of  this  kind  would  keep  the  crew's  thoughts  off  the 
event  of  the  following  day,  and  I  remember  we  induced 
our  friends  Mr.  Arthur  Helmore  and  Mr.  Fred  Upton, 
whose  unique  and  singularly  quaint  and  original  recita- 
tions have  won  them  the  widest  popularity,  to  assist  us 
on  this  memorable  occasion,  so  a  really  notable  per- 
formance was  the  result  of  our  efforts. 

An  amusing  incident  took  place  during  dinner.  The 
crew  were  staying  in  a  furnished  house,  which  was 
lacking  in  many  respects,  amongst  others  in  an  adequate 
supply  of  wine-glasses.  During  dinner,  and  bearing 
in  mind  the  strict  rules  of  abstinence  during  their 
training,  Mr.  Dudley  Ward,  the  captain,  decreed  that 
no  man  should  drink  more  than  one  glass  of  port. 
Now  it  so  happened  that  the  glasses  varied  in  size, 
from  a  very  small  sherry-glass  to  huge  claret-goblets, 
and  Dudley  Ward  took  care  that  one  of  the  goblets  at 
all  events  should  fall  to  his  share.  I  sat  between  him 
and  Mr.  Etherington  Smith,  who  had  been  unlucky 
enough  to  secure  one  of  the  sherry-glasses.  Having 
speedily  consumed  his  port,  he  was  about  to  fill  his 
glass  surreptitiously  when  suddenly  he  found  the  eagle 
eye  of  Dudley  Ward  fixed  upon  him,  whilst  a  voice  rang 
through  the  room  in  stern  denunciation  :  "  Etherington, 
how  dare  you?     I  said  only  one  glass  !  " 

"  Oh  yes,  old  chap,  that's  all  very  well  ;  but  you 
took  jolly  good  care  to  give  me  a  thimble  and  take 
a  whole  bath  for  yourself  I  " 


A    STUDY    IN    AUDIENCES  133 

One  day  I  met  Mr.  Kennerley  Rumford,  with  whom 
I  possessed  a  very  slight  acquaintance,  and  he  said, 
"  Oh,  Mr.  Capper,  I  am  so  glad  to  meet  you.  It  is 
my  wife's  birthday  next  Wednesday  and  I  am  giving 
a  party  in  her  honour,  and  an  idea  has  just  struck  me. 
She  is  deeply  interested  in  thought-reading  and  has 
heard  much  of  your  experiments,  though  she  has  never 
met  you  nor  been  present  at  your  stances.  Now,  what 
I  suggest  is  that  I  shall  make  her  a  birthday  present 
of  your  entertainment,  if  that  will  fall  in  with  your 
approval.  So  will  you  come  next  Wednesday  at  nine 
and  I  won't  say  a  word  about  it  beforehand?  "  I  gladly 
acquiesced  and  quickly  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the 
whole  thing,  and  on  the  following  Wednesday  I  turned 
up  at  the  appointed  hour.  Mr.  Rumford  introduced 
me  very  vaguely  and  purposely  inaudibly  to  his  wife, 
and  then  said,  "  This  gentleman  is  interested  in  thought- 
reading,  and  he  says,  if  you  like,  he  will  try  and  give 
a  few  exhibitions  of  his  skill.  Madame  Butt  was 
delighted,  and  I  set  to  work,  with,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
greater  success  than  usual,  the  audience,  mostly  pro- 
fessional themselves,  being  unusually  sympathetic  and 
intelligent. 

At  the  conclusion  of  my  little  entertainment  the 
famous  diva  came  up  to  me,  full  of  radiant  thanks, 
"  I  don't  know  when  I  have  been  so  interested,"  she 
said.  "  I  haven't  the  pleasure  of  knowing  your  name, 
but  your  experiments  have  been  so  splendid  that,  though 
I  have  never  seen  him^  I  feel  sure  that  even  Mr.  Alfred 
Capper  could  not  equal  them."  A  loud  burst  of  cheery 
laughter,  led  by  Mr.  Kennerley  Rumford,  greeted  her 
little  speech.  "  Why,  my  dear,"  said  my  host,  "  this  is 
Mr.  Alfred  Capper,  and  I  have  brought  him  here 
to-night  as  a  birthday  present  for  you,  and  I  am 
dehghted  it   has   been  such  a  success." 


134  A   STUDY    IN    AUDIENCES 

I  am  not  as  a  rule,  though  no  Puritan,  in  favour  of 
Sunday  entertainments,  and  I   trust  the  day  is  far  off 
when  races  will  be  run  on  Sunday  or  the  theatres  open 
on  Sunday  night.     I  think  God  meant  us  to  devote  one 
day  to  rest  and  to  thoughts  of  the  Spirit  as  opposed  to 
mere  worldly  interests  and  pursuits.     But  in  the  sacred 
cause  of  charity  I   feel  that  there  are  occasions  when 
I  may  well  relax  my  opinions  ;    and  such  an  occasion 
arose   when   I    was   asked,   five   and   twenty   years  ago, 
by  my  old  friend   Sir  Alfred  Scott-Gatty,  the  Garter- 
King-at-Arms,      to      give     an     entertainment     to     the 
Gordon      League      Sunday      Evenings     for     the     very 
poor.      These   entertainments  were   started  by   H.R.H. 
the  Princess  Louise,  Mr.  Arnold  White,  the  late  Lord 
and  Lady  Romilly,   Mr.   Raymond  Blathwayt,  and  Mr. 
(now  Sir  Charles)  Follett,  all  of  whom  sat  on  the  com- 
mittee, and  arranged,  week  by  week,  a  Sunday  evening 
programme  which  usually  contained  the  names  of  some 
of  the  best -known  people  of  the  day — Norman  Neruda, 
Ellen  Terry,   Sir  Henry  Irving,  and  a  hundred  others 
almost   equally   gifted   and   famous.      Well,   my   friend, 
Sir  Alfred  Scott-Gatty,   himself  a  delightful  musician, 
suggested  my  entertainment  to  the  committee  one  day, 
and  was  much  startled  and  astonished  and  not  a  little 
amused  when  his  proposal  was  violently  opposed  by  Mr. 
Follett,  who  was  then  permanent  chairman  of  the  enter- 
tainments, and  who  vigorously  declared  that  he  strongly 
objected   to   anything   of  a  mystic   and  a   superstitious 
nature,  the  more  especially,  he  added,  as  it  would  be 
in  total  opposition  to  the  Bible-reading  and  the  hymn- 
singing  with  which  he  always  closed  the  meetings. 

Sir  Alfred,  however,  succeeded  in  pacifying  him,  and 
I  gave  my  entertainment,  hugely  to  the  pleasure  of  the 
audience,  and,  I  may  add,  to  the  complete  satisfaction 
of  Mr.  Follett  himself.     Sir  Alfred  subsequently  wrote 


A    STUDY    IN    AUDIENCES  135 

to  me  :  "I  am  sure  you  must  be  contented  with  the 
reception  you  got  from  the  audience — poor  things,  they 
were  simply  overwhelmed,  and  Mr.  FoUett  declared  he 
had  never  seen  anything  so  wonderful  in  his  life." 

I  confess  I  felt  very  nervous  once  in  my  life,  and  that 
was  many,  many  years  ago,  when,  I  was  called  upon  to 
give  a  demonstration  of  my  powers  before  the  British 
Medical  Association  at  the  Royal  Bath  Hotel,  Bourne- 
mouth, when  I  was  the  guest  of  Sir  Merton  Russell 
Cotes.  I  was  nervous  because  there  was  I,  a  young 
man,  standing  up  to  perform  in  the  presence  of  one  of 
the  most  learned,  keenly  critical,  and  severely  sceptical 
audiences  in  the  whole  world.  Dear  Sir  Morel  Mac- 
kenzie and  Sir  William  Gull  speedily  put  me  at  my  ease, 
however,  the  former  coming  up  to  me  and  saying, 
"  Now,  Mr.  Capper,  every  one  of  us  old  fogies  is  at 
your  disposal  to-night.  We  are  so  many  disciples  seated 
at  the  feet  of  Gamaliel."  Sir  William  Gull  volunteered 
to  lead  off  as  my  first  medium,  and  I  very  soon  realized 
that  it  is  invariably  the  greatest  people  in  any  line  of 
life  who  are  the  most  helpful  and  the  most  sympathetic, 
provided  always  that  they  are  convinced  of  one's 
genuineness  in  the  first  place,  and,  secondly,  of  one's 
ability  to  carry  out  what  one  professes  to  do.  I  know 
I  never  had  more  kind  things  said  to  me  than  were  said 
to  me  that  night,  nor  have  I  ever  witnessed  more  keen 
and  intelligent  appreciation  of  my  efforts  than  I  did  on 
that  memorable  and  never-to-be-forgotten  occasion. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  experiences  of  my  life 
in  the  way  of  audiences  took  place  only  a  few  weeks 
ago,  when  I  went  down  to  the  great  camp  on  Salisbury 
Plain  and  gave  an  entertainment  to  the  soldiers.  It  was 
particularly  interesting  to  me,  and  I  was  immensely 
impressed  by  the  wonderful  spectacle  that  met  my  eyes 
as  I   neared  the  great   Plain.     The  lovely  downs  over 


136  A    STUDY    IN    AUDIENCES 

which  magnificent  cumuli  clouds  floated  up  from  the 
underworld,  as  it  seemed  to  me^  casting  shadows  on 
the  greensward  beneath  ;  the  endless  rows  of  white 
tents,  glittering  in  the  brilliant  sunshine  ;  the  bugje- 
calls  borne  faintly,  from  many  a  camp,  upon  the  soft 
summer  breeze,  and  now  and  again  the  brave  sound 
of  a  distant  drum,  and  all  those  thousands  and  thousands 
of  splendid  young  men,  England's  very  best  I  What 
an  army  Kitchener's  Army  is  to  be  sure  ;  was  there  ever 
such  rank  and  file  known  in  all  history?  Public  School 
boys  and  professional  men  ;  athletes,  cricketers,  tennis- 
players,  squash  and  racket  champions,  runners,  jumpers, 
sportsmen  of  every  description,  boxers.  University  men, 
cooks,  valets,  drapers'  assistants,  millionaires,  navvies  ; 
men  from  the  prairie,  Bush,  and  veld  ;  roughriders  and 
rifle  shots  ;  all  drilled  and  moulded  and  disciplined 
and  "  ragged  "  into  one  vast  homogeneous  whole,  ready 
to  go  anywhere,  dare  any  one,  and  do  anything.  And 
these  men  and  their  supremely  fine  officers,  between 
whom  and  them  exists  the  most  perfect  harmony  and 
camaraderie  that  it  is  possible  to  conceive,  made  up  my 
audience  that  sweet  summer  evening.  Officers,  non- 
commissioned officers,  and  privates,  and  most  especially 
their  idolized  chaplain,  assisted  me  to  the  best  of  their 
power,  and  you  might  have  heard  a  pin  drop  during 
the  whole  two  hours.  A  perfect  audience  and  men  that 
it  made  my  heart  ache  to  think  I  might  never  mteet 
again. 

One  of  the  bitterest  opponents  of  thought-reading 
generally,  and  of  Mr.  Irving  Bishop,  the  first  exponent 
of  it  in  England,  in  particular,  was  Mr.  Labouchere,  the 
editor  of  Truth.  It  was  like  waving  a  red  rag  to  a 
bull  even  to  mention  the  subject  in  his  presence,  and 
he  publicly,  in  his  journal,  challenged  Mr.  Bishop  to 
give   a   specimen   of   his   alleged   power   in   telling   the 


A    STUDY    IN    AUDIENCES  i37 

number  of  a  hidden  bank-note,  declaring  that  if  Mr. 
Bishop  could  do  it  he  would  present  him  with  £ioo. 
At  first  Mr.  Bishop  took  no  notice  of  the  challenge. 
One  evening,  however,  at  the  Deanery  at  Southampton, 
when  only  Sir  John  Lubbock,  Canon  Wilberforce,  and 
myself  were  present,  Mr.  Bishop,  being  challenged  by 
Sir  John,  accepted  the  challenge,  and  Sir  John  said, 
"  I  have  the  number  of  a  banknote,  which  is  in  my 
bedroom  upstairs,  in  my  head.  I  will  think  of  it  now." 
After  a  few  moments  Mr.  Bishop  slowly  dictated  the 
exact  figures.  The  enthusiasm  was  great,  and  both 
Sir  John  and  the  Canon  wrote  him  out  then  and  there 
a  signed  statement  of  the  occurrence.  Mr.  Bishop,  on 
his  return  to  London,  took  the  St.  James's  Hall,  and 
publicly  announced  that  he  accepted  Mr.  Labouchere's 
challenge,  to  which  he  would  reply  on  such  and  such 
an  evening  at  St.  James's  Hall.  This  he  did,  and  a 
member  of  the  audience,  chosen  haphazard,  selected 
secretly  a  banknote  from  two  or  three  he  had  in  his 
pocket,  and  Mr.  Bishop  at  once  read  the  number  out 
with  perfect  accuracy.  I  am  sorry  to  add,  however, 
that  though  he  had  successfully  replied  to  Mr. 
Labouchere's  almost  libellous  and  certainly  very  cruel 
and  unjustifiable  statements  about  him,  he  never  got 
the  promised  £ioo  from  him.  All  this,  of  course,  was 
very  interesting  to  me.  Some  years  after  Mr.  Bishop's 
victory,  I  had  just  concluded  an  entertainment  which  I 
had  given  at  Miss  Braddon's  house,  at  which  I  well 
remember  Sir  Squire  and  Lady  Bancroft  and  Sir 
Charles  Wyndham,  long  before  they  had  become  titled 
people,  or  ever  dreamed  of  the  possibility  of  such  an 
event,  were  present,  when  Mr.  Labouchere  came  up  to 
me  and,  after  a  fashion,  and  on  the  whole  a  very  kindly 
fashion,  he  apologized  and  made  the  amende  honorable 
for    all    he    had    said    against     thought-reading"    and 


138  A    STUDY    IN    AUDIENCES 

thought-readers.  "  Mr.  Capper,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I 
really  believe  you  have  converted  me,  and  that  I  shall 
be  a  new  Saul  among  the  prophets.  Up  to  to-day  I 
have  always  regarded  such  performances  as  yours  as 
mere  humbug.  But  I  am  bound  to  say  that  you  are 
marvellous  I  Lucky  for  you  you  didn't  live  four  hun- 
dred years  ago.  You  would  certainly  have  been  burned 
at  the  stake.  Thank  you  very  much  for  a  delightful 
afternoon." 

The  extraordinary  amount  of  hospitality  I  have 
received  during  my  travels  of  the  last  thirty  years  can 
scarcely  be  realized,  though  my  readers  will  be  enabled 
faintly  to  appreciate  something  of  what  it  has  been 
when  I  tell  them  that  I  have  stayed  at  upwards  of  2,000 
houses  in  the  United  Kingdom,  whilst  during  my 
Eastern  tour  I  covered  no  less  than  50,000  miles  in 
ten  months,  and  gave  upwards  of  200  perform- 
ances in  all,  which  was  really  a  gigantic  achievement 
and  which  was  accomplished  without  the  aid  of  agents 
or  any  preliminary  arrangement. 

Not  that  I  have  anything  against  agents,  whose  ser- 
vices are  invaluable  to  most  artists.  But,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  I  have  always  been  my  own  agent,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Mr.  Gerald  Christy,  of  the  Lecture  Agency,  with 
whom  I  do  business  occasionally.  Of  him  and  his 
efforts  on  my  behalf  I  can  only  say,  as  Nansen  and  all 
the  most  famous  lecturers  and  entertainers  of  the  day 
consistently  say,  he  is  the  very  prince  of  the  whole  lot. 
During  the  last  thirty  years  I  have  made  an  enormous 
number  of  friends,  and  I  am  proud  to  add  that  fre- 
quently my  first  and  professional  visit  to  a  complete 
stranger  has  eventuated  in  many  subsequent  visits  to  a 
dear  friend.  , 


CHAPTER    XI 

AN   ACTOR   AND— ANOTHER   ACTOR 

Very  few  actors  have  so  established  themselves  in 
the  hearts  of  the  people,  have  become  so  much  a  part 
of  the  multitudinous  life  of  London,  have  so  thoroughly- 
incorporated  themselves  in  the  body  politic  as  has 
Sir  Herbert  Tree,  the  famous  actor-manager  and  lessee 
of  His  Majesty's  Theatre.  Now  I  do  not  propose  to 
deal  in  this  brief  chapter  with  Sir  Herbert  in  his 
professional  capacity,  which  is  known,  of  course,  to 
every  one  ;  I  would  prefer  rather  to  give  a  glimpse 
of  him  in  his  private  life  as  he  appears  to  his  many 
friends,  by  all  of  whom  he  is  held  in  the  sincerest 
respect  and  admiration,  for  a  more  charming  and 
fascinating  personality  it  would  be  impossible  to 
imagine.  I  have  known  Tree  for  thirty  years  or  so, 
and  I  have  never  quitted  him  without  the  feeling  that 
he  is  in  very  deed  and  truth  one  of  the  most  lovable 
of  men,  and  to  see  Tree  at  his  best  is  to  see  him  when 
he  is  entertaining  his  friends,  of  whom  no  man  on  earth 
can  possibly  possess  more,  whose  name  is  legion,  and 
who  comprise  the  most  varied  personalities  one  can 
possibly  imagine.  Let  us  picture  him  when  he  is 
giving  one  of  those  famous  supper-parties  of  his  in 
the  dome   of   His   Majesty's   Theatre. 

And  you  must  figure  to  yourself  that  you  have  just 
been  elevated  by  the  lift  far  above  the  roaring  streets  of 

London  which  lie  spread  round  and  about  the  theatre,  and 

139 


I40     AN   ACTOR  AND— ANOTHER  ACTOR 

that  you  are  just  entering  the  two  great  rooms  wherein 
the  actor  spends  many  of  his  working  hours.  And  the 
first  thing  that  will  strike  you  is  the  enormous  height  of 
the  first  room,  the  walls  of  which  spring  upwards  for 
some  sixty  feet  or  so,  until  they  are  topped  by  the  dome 
itself.  Along  the  walls  of  this  first  room  Mr.  Charles 
Buchel,  the  theatrical  artist,  has  painted  some  gorgeous 
and  colourful  and  stirring  representations  of  Sir  Herbert 
and  his  company  in  the  tragedies  of  Shakespeare 
— "  Othello,"  "  Richard  H,"  "  Macbeth,"  "  Romeo 
and  JuHet,"  "  Julius  Cassar,"  and  the  like.  Passing 
through  this  room,  which  is  curiously  reminiscent  and 
suggestive,  with  its  massive  and  iron-studded  doors,  of 
the  hall  in  a  Norman  keep,  and  wherein  the  turmoil  of 
London,  far  beneath,  is  merged  in  only  a  dull  murmur 
and  rumble  of  sound,  and  pushing  aside  some  very 
beautiful  curtains,  painted  ir^  the  fashion  of  mediaeval 
tapestry,  you  find  yourself  in  the  second  room,  the  great 
actor's  more  immediate  sanctum,  and  you  gaze  fasci- 
nated by  Mr.  Charles  Buchel's  very  light  and  airy  and 
charming  delineations  of  Sir  Herbert  and  the  ladies 
and  gentlemen  of  his  company  in  the  comedies  of 
Shakespeare—"  The  Tempest,"  "  Twelfth  Night,"  "  The 
Merry  Wives,"  and  so  on.  An  admirable  pencil  sketch 
by  Sargent,  in  his  best  style,  depicts  Viola  Tree  as  she 
was  shortly  before  her  marriage  to  Mr.  Alan  Parsons 
three  years  ago  or  so,  whilst  a  roll-desk,  crowded 
with  letters  and  papers,  and  upon  which  stands  the 
ever-sounding  telephone,  testifies  eloquently  to  the  actor 
as  a  man  of  many  varied  social  pursuits  and  afi'airs, 
though,  as  a  matter  of  fact.  Sir  Herbert  does  not  know 
many  relaxations  outside  his  work.  I  have  never  known 
him,  for  instance,  to  play  any  games,  not  even  except- 
ing bridge  or  golf,  though  it  is  on  record — I  have 
never    received    official    verification    of    the    fact — that 


AN.  ACTOR   AND-ANOTHER   ACTOR     141 

he  and  an  old  friend  once  started  out  to  play 
a  game  of  golf  on  the  links  at  Aberdeen  ;  know- 
ing the  two  men  as  I  do,  I  don't  believe  they 
ever  reached  the  links,  and  if  they  did  I  am  quite  sure 
they  never  went  the  ridiculous  lengths  of  playing  a 
game. 

However,  the  company  are  assembhng  for  supper 
in  the  next  room,  and  what  a  medley  they  are  of  all  that 
is  most  brilliant  in  the  London  of  to-day,  or  at  all 
events,  just  before  the  War,  which  is  the  occasion  to 
which    I    refer.      There,    for    instance,    is    the   Duke  of 

,    tall    and    stately,    looking    very    handsome    with 

his  white  beard  and  his  eyeglass  and  his  genial,  winning 

manner  ;      talking     to     him     is     the     Duke     of     , 

who  has  just  come  in  with  clever,  handsome  Claude 
Lowther,  who  always  gives  one  the  impression  of  being 
far  more  cynical  than  he  really  is,  though  he  is  witty 
far  beyond  the  modern  average,  and  witty  with  a  culture 
that  is  as  fascinating  as  it  is  rare  to-day.  Just  behind 
them  stands  General  ,  a  courtly  and  hand- 
some reminder  of  the  Victorian  days  when  society  was 
not  the  extraordinary  hash  and  muddle  of  everybodies 
and    nobodies    it    unfortunately    is    to-day. 

And  there  also  is  Mr.  Arnold  White,  as  fresh-coloured 
as  he  was  when  I  first  knew  him  in  the  old  Gordon 
League  days  thirty  years  ago,  and  as  vigorous  as  one 
of  his  own  incisive  "  Vanoc  "  or  Daily  Express  articles. 
Close  behind  him  is  a  man  he  has  often  attacked,  the  late 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  and  I  observe  with  regret 
that  Mr.  Lloyd  George  is  really  beginning  to  get  quite 
grey,  almost  white  indeed.  Miss  Constance  Collier 
and  Miss  Marie  Lohr,  the  one  a  handsome  reminder  of 
her  own  magnificent  presentation  of  Cleopatra  and  the 
other  as  dainty  and  as  pathetic  as  her  Marguerite  was 
in  Stephen  Phillips's  "  Faust,"  are  vigorously  engaged 


142     AN   ACTOR  AND-ANOTHER  ACTOR 

in  conversation  with  the  popular  and  kindly  Bishop  of 

who,  as  Rector  of ,  did  so  much  good  work  for 

the  religious  life  of  the  great  metropolis.  But  it  is 
not  possible  to  enumerate  all  who  were  there  on  that 
famous  occasion  :  actors,  journalists,  smart  society 
people,  novelists,  scientists,  artists,  they  all  were  there, 
and,  truth  to  tell,  it  was  more  like  a  page  of  "  Who's 
Who  "  come  to  life  than  anything  else  I  can  call  to 
mind  at  the  moment.  And  first  and  foremost  and  most 
interesting  of  the  whole  lot  of  them,  and  always  easily 
dominating  the  whole  scene,  was  the  famous  actor- 
manager  himself.  I  need  not  stay  to  describe  the 
supper,  nor  need  I  dwell  upon  the  admirable  speeches, 
not  wholly  unspiced  by  political  animosities,  which  were 
delivered  respectively  by  Mr.  Arnold  White,  whose 
patriotic  Imperialism  had  been  greatly  fired  by  the 
splendid  performance  of  "  Drake  "  which  had  preceded 
the  evening's  supper,  and  by  a  certain  Cabinet  Minister, 
who  had  been  equally  touched  up,  though  in  a  far 
different  manner  and  direction  by  the  eloquence  of 
"  Vanoc  "  which  had  not  altogether  spared  the  Radical 
Minister's  most  tender  susceptibilities.  However,  the 
host's  tact,  and  the  real  common  sense  and  good  feeling 
of  the  protagonists,  prevented  any  open  display  of 
hostilities,  and  all  went  as  smoothly  as  the  proverbial 
wedding-bells. 

During  supper  Sir  Herbert  told  a  delightful 
story. 

"  You  remember  my  Japanese  play  some  years  ago? 
Well,  when  I  took  it  off  His  Majesty's  I  sent  it  on  tour. 
Now  it  happened  that  a  certain  town  was  billed  very 
profusely  with  this  play  and  with  the  announcements 
of  another  play  equally  as,  if  not  indeed  even  more 
popular  than  my  own.  And  both  were  announced  as 
appearing  on  the  same  day,  at  the  two  chief  theatres 


AN    ACTOR   AND— ANOTHER   ACTOR     143 

in  the  town.  On  the  Sunday  before  the  production,  the 
day  on  which  provincial  companies  always  travel  from 
town  to  town,  there  was  quite  a  crovi^d  gathered  to 
witness  the  respective  arrivals  of  the  two  companies, 
who  were  due  to  travel  by  the  same  train.  Well,  the 
train  steamed  in,  amid  the  great  but  subdued  excite- 
ment of  the  waiting  crowd,  and  as,"  mentioning'  a  cer- 
tain famous,  and  be  it  added  very  stately  and  pompous 
actor-manager,  "  descended  from  his  saloon,  where  he 
had  been  travelUng  in  great  state,  a  coquettish  lady 
reporter  stepped  briskly  up  to  him  with  pencil  and  note- 
book ready  in  her  hand,  and  said  she,  with  the  pointed 
and  hyper-refaigned  accent  of  Upper  Tootipg_,  "  I  beg 
your  pardon,  sir,  but,  may  I  ask,  are  you  '  The  Ip,arling 
of  the  Gods  '  or  '  The  Worst  Woman,  in,  London  '?  " 
Towards  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  I  found  myself 
almost  alone  with  Sir  Herbert  Tree,  all  th,e  guests 
having  taken  their  departure  with  the  exception  of  Mr. 
Claude  Lowther,  myself,  a  young  ofificer,  and  Mr.  Harold 
Begbie,  the  novelist  and  journalist,  who  kept  us 
feverishly  interested  in  his  account  of  a  long  tour  he 
had  once  made  with  old  General  Booth.  And  some- 
how pr  another  this  led  to  a  discussion  on  missionaries 
and  their  work,  and  I  was  keenly  interested  in  Tree's 
remarks  on  this  question,  and  mainly  for  the  reason  that 
they  were  so  extraordinarily  different  from  what  I  should 
naturally  have  imagined  they  would  be. 

The  officer  had  just  given  expression  to  the  very 
old,  but  I  must  own.  very  natural,  objection  to  missions 
which  is  generally  made  by  the  unthoughtful  or  the 
totally  ignorant  on  the  subject,  "  Well,  for  my  part,  I 
think  parsons  would  do  better  to  convert  people  at 
home  and  leave  the  poor  heathen  alone." 

"  Yes,"  said  Sir  Herbert,  "  I  used  to  think  so  too, 
and   to   be   quite   frank,   I   often   think  so   to-day.      At 


144     AN   ACTOR  AND-ANOTHER  ACTOR 

the  same  time,  I  am  bound  to  say  there  is  another  side 
to  the  question^  and  that  is  the  missionaries'  side,  and, 
after  all,  they,  who  have  made  a  life-study  of  it,  must 
know  more  about  it  than  we  can  possibly  do  who 
dismiss  it  in  the  time  it  takes  us  to  finish  off  a  whisky- 
and-soda.  I  meet  every  class  of  the  community,  and 
more  than  once  I  have  met  missionaries  and  talked  with 
them,  and  I  am  bound  to  say  I  have  invariably  found 
them  most  extraordinarily  interesting  people.  I  some- 
times think  they  are  the  finest  builders  of  Empire  that 
we  possess — certainly  they  are  amongst  the  earliest 
pioneers  of  Empire.  Have  you  ever  realized  that  quite 
frequently  they  are  the  one  link  between  the  Stone 
Age  of  people  who  are  actually  living  now  and 
the  wonderful  age  of  electricity  and  telephones  and 
cinematographs  in  which  we  live  in  London  to-day? 
Do  you  realize  that  the  Stone  Age  is  going  on  at  this 
very  minute  in  different  parts  of  the  world?  I  remem- 
ber a  famous  missionary  bishop  telling  me  of  a  savage 
whose  tribe  had  scarcely  an  articulate  word  in  their 
language,  and  who  wielded  a  stone-tipped  spear  and 
arrow,  and  to  whom  he  was  slowly  and  painfully  trying 
to  teach  the  most  elementary  lessons  of  civilization. 
'  And  yet,'  said  the  Bishop,  '  quite  possibly  that  man's 
son  or  grandson,  twenty  or  thirty  years  from  now,  will 
be  a  British  Premier,  and  he  will  owe  alil  that  to  the 
missionary  enterprise  of  the  Anglican  Church,'  which 
he  assured  me,  and  which  1  can  quite  believe,  is  aj 
real  and  vital  factor  in  British  Imperialism.  No,  my 
talk  with  that  good  man  resulted  in  my  realizing  that 
perhaps  there  was  more  to  be  said  in  favour  of  missions 
to  the  heathen  than  the  ordinary  Clubman  quite  realizes 
when  he  discusses  it  so  cavalierly  over  his!  whisky-and- 
soda.  At  the  same  time,  you  mustn't  imagine  that  I 
am  a  convinced  believer  in  missionary  work,  for  I  am 


AN    ACTOR   AND-ANOTHER   ACTOR     145 

not,  and  there  is  one  thing  I  certainly  do  condemn, 
though  I  understand  it  is  not  so  common  as  it  used  to 
be,  and  that  is  when  missionaries  make  light  of  creeds 
and  superstitions  and  forms  of  religion  which  are  very 
real  and  vital  to  the  heathen  themselves.  However,  I 
cannot  set  myself  up  as  an  authority  on  missions  either 
for  or  against,  only  I  do  like  fair  play  all  round,  and 
though  my  natural  tendencies  are  to  dislike  missions 
and  to  doubt  their  value,  and  very  seriously  to  doubt 
if  they  do  any  good  at  all,  1  think  we  are  bound  in 
common  fairness  always  to  hear  the  other  side.  At  the 
same  time,  I  am  bound  to  say  I  think  there  is  no 
class  of  men  in  the  world  who  have  so  cleverly  con- 
trived to  set  people  against  them  and  their  causes  as 
missionaries  have  done,  and  that  is  true  of  them  both 
socially  and  politically.  But  it  is  time  we  all  went  to 
bed,"  continued  Herbert  Tree,  as  he  opened  the  window 
far  above  his  head  and  let  in  the  sweet  air  which  even 
a  London  dawn  can  so  bountifully  provide  for  those 
who  are  fortunate  enough  to  be  up  and  able  to  test  its 
joys   for  themselves. 

As  Sir  Herbert  passed  through  the  great  door  which 
always  so  forcibly  reminds  me  of  the  entrance  to  a 
Norman  castle,  he  drew  us  aside  to  the  wide-spreading 
roof,  which  lies  open  to  all  the  winds  of  heaven  that 
blow,  and  which  at  the  moment  was  strewn  Math  the 
pots  and  pans  wherein  the  evening's  feast  had  been 
prepared,  and  here  and  there  I  noticed  a  solitary  potted 
palm-tree,  trying  to  look  like  nature  and  the  tropic 
wilderness  and  dismally  failing  in  the  attempt. 

"  Here,"  said  Sir  Herbert, — "  here  is  my  garden." 
As  quick  as  lightning  Claude  Lowther  replied  : 
"  Kitchen  garden  I   should  think  you  mean."      With 
which  delightfully  witty  remark  we  parted  with  genially 
spontaneous  laughter. 

n 


146     AN   ACTOR  AND-ANOTHER  ACTOR 

Another  great  actor  is  Horatio  Bottomley — not  a 
professional  actor,  you  know  ;  quite  a  natural  and 
spontaneous  one,  and  therefore  a  good  one.  Bluff  and 
outspoken  when  occasion  requires,  and  yet  when  occa- 
sion requires  following  the  apostolic  advice  and  being 
all  things  to  all  men,  that  by  some  means  he  should 
gain  adherents  to  the  cause  in  which  he  is  most  in- 
terested. A  man  of  the  world  and  a  worldly  man 
Horatio  Bottomley,  but  a  thorough  good  sort  all  the 
same  and  a  sportsman  through  and  through.  Bottomley 
would  always  play  the  game  simply  because  he  is 
possessed  with  an  extraordinary  sense  of  that  enthu- 
siasm, that  passion  for  fair  dealing,  that  is  popularly 
but  erroneously  held  to  be  the  birthright  or  birth  quality 
of  every  Englishman.  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  not, 
and  none  knows  better  than  Bottomley  that  in  many 
respects  the  typical  Englishman  is  grossly  unfair  and 
ungenerous  in  his  criticism  and  treatment  of  his  fellow- 
men.  And  then,  again,  one  of  the  most  noticeable 
qualities  in  Bottomley  is  that  he  possesses  what  I  may 
term  the  growing  mind.  He  doesn't  stop  still  men- 
tally ;  he  advances  with  the  passing  years.  Five  years 
ago  there  was  not  a  man  in  London,  including  him- 
self, who  would  not  have  laughed  at  the  bare  idea  of 
Horatio  Bottomley  writing  the  articles  he  has  lately 
been  publishing  both  in  John  Bull  and  in  the  Sunday 
Pictorial  ;  the  articles  in  which  he  has  frankly  recog- 
nized the  possibility,  nay,  the  actual  probability,  of 
the  existence  of  a  Supreme  Being,  able  and  willing  to 
interfere  in  the  affairs  of  men  ;  articles  aflame  with 
the  most  magnificent  patriotism  ;  articles  which  loudly 
acclaim  a  fervid  belief  in  the  inner  and  spiritual  side 
of  humanity  and  the  issues  which  help  to  condition  all 
our  lives.  "  Ah  !  "  he  said  to  me  when  I  commented 
upon    this    striking   evidence   of   change    in   his   mental 


AN    ACTOR   AND-ANOTHER   ACTOR     147 

outlook  and  referred  to  the  sincere  pleasure  it  had 
afforded  many  people,  and  especially  his  clerical 
readers,  people  who  in  the  past  had  been  bitterly 
opposed  to  him  and  his  writings — "  ah  !  but  1  have 
long  been  considering  my  old  position,  and  this  war 
has  changed  me  in  many  respects.  I  am  glad  you 
allude  to  the  clergy,  for,  curiously  enough,  I  had  a 
delightful  letter  only  this  morning  from  Archdeacon 
Wilberforce  thanking  me  for  my  article  in  the  Sunday 
Pictorial  last  week.  After  all.  Capper,  we  are  none 
of  us  too  old  to  iearn.  I  think  a  lot  of  Horatio 
Bottomley,  naturally,  but  I  don't  think  he  is  or  ever 
has  been  or  ever  will  be  omniscient,  and  if  I  have  come 
to  believe  that  there  may  be  a  Supreme  Being  who 
shapes  our  destinies  I  am  only  following  in  the  foot- 
steps of  our  great  modern  scientists  who  perceive  in 
a  Deity  what  is  quite  possibly  a  scientific  and  a  logical 
explanation  of  much  that  would  otherwise  be  inex- 
plicable." 

At  this  moment  a  gigantic  mastiff  strolled  into  the 
pretty  flat  in  which  Mr.  Bottomley  and  I  were  talk- 
ing, and  came  up  to  me  and  held  out  a  huge,  soft 
paw.  At  first  I  almost  thought  the  animal  was  a 
young  lion,  he  was  so  enormous.  "  Ah,  that's 
Brompton  Duke,"  said  my  host,  "  the  finest  mastiff 
in  the  world.  He  took  first  prize  at  the  Richmond  Dog 
Show  yesterday.  And  you  progress  with  the  times, 
too,  as  well  as  your  master,  don't  you,  my  beauty?  " 
he  queried  as  he  stroked  the  head  of  the  magnificent 
creature.  "  This  war  revolutionizes  all  thoughtj,"  he 
continued,  "  and  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to 
write  the  articles  to-day  that  satisfied  my  readers  and 
myself  five  years  ago  or  so.  But  to  come  down  to 
matters  more  material,  I  do  think  that  this  war  has 
helped    to    demonstrate    the   necessity    of    what    I    have 


148      AN    ACTOR   AND-ANOTHER   ACTOR 

been  urging  for  the  last  five  years  and  more — a  Busi- 
ness Government,  a  term  ,which  I  invented  and  which 
I  do  not  think  can  be  improved  upon." 

"  Quite  so,  Mr.  Bottomley,"  I  said.  "  I  don't  think 
it  can  be  improved  upon,  but  I  am  quite  sure  it  can  be 
misunderstood." 

"  Impossible,"  retorted  my  host  ;  "  it  is  simplicity 
itself." 

"  Yes,  so  you  would  think,"  I  replied  ;  "but  as 
a  matter  of  fact  I  heard  a  man  only  yesterday, 
discussing  your  scheme,  objecting  that  to  appoint 
a  business  man  pure  and  simple  to  every  post  in  the 
Cabinet   would   mean   chaos." 

**  Why,  of  course  it  would,"  replied  Mr.  Bottomley. 
"  I  quite  agree  with  him  there  ;  but  what  a  fool  he 
must  be  not  to  understand  the  meaning  of  the  term 
'  Business  Government,'  which  is  simply  a  Government 
that  will  adopt  the  best  means  to  carry  through  its 
work  as  speedily,  economically,  and  effectively  as 
possible.  To  put  a  business  man,  pure  and  simple,  into 
every  Cabinet  post  would  be  the  most  hopelessly  un- 
business-like  method  one  could  possibly  adopt.  Fancy 
a  stockbroker  or  a  City  merchant  at  the  head  of  the 
War  Office,  or  the  Admiralty,  or  the  Foreign  Office. 
Now  here  is  my  idea  of  a  Business  Government  :  A 
soldier  at  the  War  Office,  a  sailor  at  the  Admiralty,  a 
banker  as  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  a  lawyer  on 
the  Woolsack,  a  really  broad-minded  Public  School- 
master at  the  head  of  the  Education  Department,  a 
practical  farmer  and  agriculturist  at  the  Agricultural 
Board,  an  experienced  and  very  sympathetic  Anglo- 
Indian  official  at  the  head  of  the  India  Office  if  possible, 
a  colonial  Premier  or  a  very  high-class  ex-colonial 
Governor  at  the  Colonial  Office,  and  so  on,  and  so  on. 

In   this  way   you   get   the   round  man   in   the   round 


AN    ACTOR   AND— ANOTHER   ACTOR     149 

hole  and  the  expert  in  his  rightful  place.  And  I  would 
fix  responsibility  much  more  definitely  than  is  the  rule 
at  present." 

After  a  little  more  talk  in  this  strain  my  host  referred 
to  his  parliamentary  experiences,  and  declared  his  hope 
that  he  would  be  in  Parliament  shortly  after  the  con- 
clusion of  the  war,  and  I  added  my  sincere  hope  that 
he  would  be  in  the  Government  itself.  He  is  full  of 
the  most  amusing  recollections  of  his  electioneering 
experiences,  and  he  drew  my  attention  to  one  of  his 
posters  when  contesting  South  Hackney  in    1897. 

LATEST    SPORTING    INTELLIGENCE 
SOUTH    HACKNEY   STAKES 

Runners  : 

Mr.  John  Bull's  Horatio  (dark  horse,  by  Vox  Populi  out  of 
Fairplay). 

Mrs.  Robertson's  Herbert  (grey  horse,  by  Clap-trap  out  of 
South  Hackney). 

Mrs.  Grundy's  Riley  [who  was  a  local  dissenting  minister] 
(H.b.,  by  Crank,  out  of  His  Mind). 

Horatio,  the  favourite,  continues  to  go  strong.  He  is  daily  doing 
some  excellent  gallops,  and  yesterday  went  the  full  course  of  the 
constituency,  pulling  up  sound  and  well.  His  party  are  very 
confident. 

Herbert,  on  the  other  hand,  travels  badly.  All  sorts  of  sinister 
rumours  are  afloat.  It  is  said  that  his  fiscal  ligament  is  very  dicky, 
and  yesterday  he  was  confined  to  gentle  exercise  round  the  Chinese 
compound.  Certainly  his  recent  outings  in  public  are  not  calculated 
to  inspire  confidence.  Apart  from  a  marked  disinclination  to  face 
the  crowd,  he  has  more  than  once  shown  a  strong  desire  to  bolt. 
He  is  probably  stale,  and  requires  rest.  Every  effort  will,  however, 
be  made  to  get  him  to  the  post.  After  which  he  will  probably 
be  sent  back  to  Ireland. 

Riley,  the  outsider,  was  not  mentioned. 

Closing  Prices  : 
20  to  I  on  Horatio, 
20  to  I  against  Herbert  (offered  freely), 
1,000  to  I   Riley  (offered). 


ISO     AN   ACTOR  AND— ANOTHER  ACTOR 

"  Two  other  little  election  items  come  to  my  mind," 
continued  Mr.  Bottomley.  '*  My  opponent,  Mr.  Herbert 
Robertson,  had  adopted  the  orthodox  poster,  '  Vote  for 
Robertson,  your  old  and  tried  Member,'  and  by  way, 
I  presume,  of  a  sly  hit  at  me,  he  also  called  upon  the 
electors  to  '  Vote  for  Robertson  and  Reputation.'  One 
night,  when  all  the  constituency  was  asleep,  I  had 
facsimiles  of  these  posters  pasted  over  the  originals,, 
save  for  the  following  variations  :  By  the  transposition 
of  a  single  letter  we  converted  '  your  old  and  tried 
Member  '  into  '  your  old  and  tired  Member,'  while 
'  Robertson  and  Reputation  '  came  out  as  '  Robertson 
and  Repetition  '  1  " 

The  sporting  character  of  the  first  of  these  delight- 
ful posters  recalls  the  fact  that  Bottomley  is  a  great 
patron  of  the  turf,  upon  which  he  has  had  more  than 
one  notable  success.  To  have  won  the  Cesarewitch, 
the  Stewards'  Cup,  the  Batthyany  Plate,  the  Crawford 
Plate,  the  London  Cup,  the  Earl  Spencer's  Plate,  and 
scores  of  other  races  in  a  comparatively  few  years  is 
not  a  bad  record. 

But  it  is  perhaps  as  a  great  lay-lawyer  that  Bottomley 
is  best  known  to  the  public.  His  advocacy  of  his  own 
side  in  many  famous  actions  has  secured  him  a  reputa- 
tion for  legal  acumen  and  for  forensic  eloquence  and 
ability  which  are  possessed  by  few,  save  the  greatest 
of  our  professional  lawyers. 

A  famous  barrister  and  Member  of  Parliament  thus 
sums  up  his  impressions  of  Bottomley 's  defence  of  his 
own  case  in  the  great  Hess  trial  : 

"  His  voice  is  one  of  singular  charm  and  power. 
Low,  melodious,  strong,  it  is  an  admirable  instrument 
for  an  advocate.  For  five  hours  on  end  Mr.  Bottomley 
addressed  the  jury.  For  the  most  part  his  tone  was 
conversational  ;   now  and  again  the  low  voice  would  rise 


AN    ACTOR   AND-ANOTHER   ACTOR     151 

to  indignant  heights  ;  ever  and  anon,  as  the  litigant 
appealed  to  the  noblest  instincts  of  the  jury,  or  de- 
claimed in  accents  of  scathing  reproach  and  scorn 
against  the  flimsiness  and  inadequacy  of  the  case  he 
had  to  meet,  his  voice  would  be  hushed  almost  to  a 
whisper  which  only  the  startled  silence  of  the  court 
made  audible.  In  its  quiet  earnestness,  in  its  ring  of 
truth  and  honesty,  in  the  even  flow  of  perfectly  turned 
phrases,  and  in  the  subtlety  and  power  of  its  advocacy, 
the  speech  reminded  one  irresistibly  of  Sir  Edward 
Clarke.  I  could  not  help  feeUng  what  a  loss  the  Bar 
had  sustained  by  Mr.  Bottomley's  devotion  to  the  City. 
I  write  as  I  feel,  because  I  have  witnessed  a  most 
gallant  and  manful  fight  against  heavy  odds.  I  have 
seen  a  layman  fight  a  great  lawyer  and  beat  him  ;  I 
have  seen  a  man  with  his  back  to  the  wall  offering 
every  chance  to  his  assailant  and  beating  him  after  all. 
I  have  seen  a  man  with  nerves  of  steel,  waiting  for 
five  whole  days,  racked  with  suspense  while  the  gravest 
issues  were  being  determined,  yet  never  losing  his  sang 
frold. 

"  I  have  seen  such  a  '  bonny  fighter  '  as  I  had 
never  hoped  to  come  across  in  these  dull,  prosaic  days  ; 
and  arnia  virumqae  cano." 

And  I  say  the  same.  Bottomley  is  a  man,  and 
more   I   cannot  say. 


CHAPTER    XII 

TWO   MEN   AND   A   WOMAN 

We  all  remember,  and  once  we  revelled  in,  Ouida's 
delightful  guardsmen  :  the  ultra-smart,  accomplished, 
dainty,  daredevil,  exquisitely  beautiful  demi-deities  who 
won  the  hearts  of  every  feminine  reader  in  the  'sixties 
and  'seventies  from  John  o'  Groats  to  Land's  End. 
Very  impossible  people,  these  same  guardsmen,  but 
very  fascinating,  and  even  now  their  charm  abides — in 
my  mind,  at  all  events — because  of  the  faint  aroma, 
the  dehcate  fragrance,  they  bring  with  them  of  the 
grace  of  a  day  that  has  gone  for  ever  from  our  land. 
The  guardsman  of  to-day  is  a  very  different  being  : 
just  as  good  in  his  way,  just  as  much,  though  far 
less  obviously,  a  hero  as  poor  dear  Ouida's  gallant 
soldiers,  and  some  of  them  are  quite  as  accomplished 
as  were  her  artists  and  musicians,  but  they  are  so  in 
a  far  less  amateur  and  dilettante  fashion  ;  and  again, 
I  fancy  they  are  a  great  deal  more  casual  and  slangy 
than  were  the  curled  and  scented  pets  of  Ouida's  highly 
coloured  and  vastly  popular  stories,  "  Strathmore," 
**  Chandos,"  and  especially  her  immortal  "  Under  two 
Flags." 

iWell  now,  there's  my  young  but  nameless  friend, 
the  son  of  a  famous  Ambassador.  Now  his 
father  was  all  that  one  could  desire  in  the  way 
of   Ambassadors,   and   if   you    had    to   place   one   upon 

*5? 


TWO    MEN    AND    A   WOMAN  153 

the  stage  you  could  have  none  so  absolutely  ready  to 
play    the    part    without    any    further    make-up    as    was 
this     splendid     representative     of     a    .  stately     and     a 
charming  day  that  has,  alas  !    gone  for  ever  ;    with  his 
handsome   face,   his   courtly   manner,   his   old-fashioned 
eyeglass,  with  its  broad  black  ribbon,  and  his  general 
air  of  distinction,  he  was  absolutely  the  very  last  word 
in  one's  ideal  of  a  great  Ambassador  and  the  representa- 
tive  of   the  mightiest    Power   in   the   world.      The   late 
Ambassador  possessed,  what  so  few  men  possess  to-day, 
manner  as  well  as  manners.     Well,  let  us  take  his  son 
as   a   type,   and  a   jolly  good  one  too,   of  the  modern 
guardsman,  and  a  man  quite  as  accompUshed  as  Ouida's 
heroes,  but  far  less  conscious  of  it,  and  far  more  prac- 
tical in   turning  his   accomplishments  to  financial   pur- 
pose than  ever  they  could  have  been.     As  I  write  he  is 
home  on   sick-leave  from  the  Front,  and  he  is  going 
out  in  a  few  days,  but  in  his  short  leave  he  contrived 
to    stage   and   set    and   arrange   all   the    costumes   and 
scenery    for    a    recent    famous    theatrical    production. 
Now,  you  cannot  imagine  any  of  the  "  Strathmore  "  or 
"  Chandos  "  or  "  Two-Flag  "  heroes  turning  their  artistic 
talents    to    such    pre-eminently    practical   use    as    this. 
But    he    did    it    and   did    it    uncommonly   well,    too,    as 
every    one    knows,    and    as    every     one    expected    he 
would     who     had     seen     his     magnificent     production 
a  few    years    back.       This    young    man    is    an    artist 
to    his    finger-tips,    but,    of    course,    not    in   the    least   a 
conventional   one,    for   even   the  wildest   Quartier  Latin 
Bohemian  has  a  conventionalism  of  his  own  or  of  his 
special     set,     but     my     friend     has     none,     not     even 
enough  to  fit  into  his  delightful  but  extraordinary  flat 
in  Piccadilly.     What  a  flat  that  is  and  how  full  of  joy 
for  any  one  who,  like  myself,  is  ever  exploiting  a  new 
emotion  I 


154  TWO    MEN    AND    A    WOMAN 

When  you  are  shown  into  his  dining-room  you  walk 
straight  into  1840  and  you  feel  almost  as  though  you 
were  bowing  low  before  the  young  Queen  at  Buckingham 
Palace,  and  that  poor  Lady  Blessington  and  D'Orsay 
were  chatting  together  on  the  sofa  beside  you,  a  very 
correct  early  Victorian  sofa,  but  very  uncomfortable, 
and  which,  as  the  host  tells  you,  is  the  kind  that  you  get, 
with  luck,  he  adds,  in  billets.  And  as  he  is  in  khaki  as  he 
speaks,  and  is  as  violently  anti -Victorian  in  appearance 
as  he  is  also  hopelessly  unlike  either  "  Chandos- 
Strathmore-Two  Flags,  Esq.,"  or  the  Quartier  Latin 
degenerate  of  Henri  Murger,  you  quite  realize  he 
knows  what  he  is  talking  about  when  he  refers' 
thus  confidently  to  one's  luck  in  billets,  grub,  and 
sofas. 

In  the  decoration  of  this  Victorian  dining-room 
he  is  as  plucky  as  he  would  be  in  the  trenches — 
he  shrinks  from  no  mid-century  horror  :  false  fruit 
in  glasses  ;  false  fruit  by  itself .  I  absent-mindedly  took 
up  a  pear  to  bite  it — ugh  !  Appalling  decorations  in 
the  direction  of  vases,  and  huge,  perfectly  hideous  jugs 
with  early  Victorian  ships  and  early  Victorian  senti- 
mentalities indelibly  inscribed  upon  them.  You  know 
the  moment  you  enter  such  a  room  that  your  host  is  a 
bigot,  a  fanatic  for  truth  beside  whom  Ridley  and 
Latimer  pale  their  ludicrously  ineffectual  fires.  No  one 
was  ever  truer  to  early  Victorian  convictions  and  con- 
ventionalities in  this  whole  world,  not  even  the  good 
Queen  herself. 

"  Are    you    comfortable    on    that    sofa?  "    he    said. 

"  No,"  I  bluntly  and  brutally  replied. 

"  Well,"  he  answered,  "  at  all  events  it's  absolutely 
correct." 

A  delightfully  decided  gentleman,  this  soldier  artist, 
at  whose  feet  Bernard  Shaw  could  take  many  a  lesson 


TWO    MEN    AND    A   WOMAN  155 

in  healthily  robustious  language,  language  which  has 
made  more  than  one  stage  carpenter  and  super 
sit  up  admiringly  on  his  hind  legs.  Like  so  many 
exceptionally  clever  people,  he  possesses  a  stutter 
which  greatly  adds  to  the  humorous  quality  of  his 
pungent  discourse.  And  he  is  quite  unreserved  in  his 
comments  upon  his  failing,  if  one  may  so  describe  it, 
and  fully  alive  to  the  humour  of  the  position  in  which  his 
infirmity  occasionally  places  him.  For  instance,  he 
lived  for  some  years  in  Chester  Terrace,  "  but,"  said 
he  to  me  one  day,  "  I  never  could  get  out  the  address 
at  all  when  I  engaged  a  taxi,  so  I  was  obliged  to  tell 
the  man  to  drive  me  to  Eaton  Square,  which  luckily 
for  me  I  could  say,  and  from  there  I  would  have  to 
walk.  But  how  awful  it  would  have  been  had 
'  Holloway,'  for  instance,  been  the  only  word  I  could 
get  out." 

It's  awfully  amusing  to  get  him  to  talk  about  his 
stage  experiences,  and  even  more  so  about  his  innova- 
tions in  the  art  of  stage  decoration  and  costumes  and 
scenery.  It  is  really  owing  to  Constance  Collier  and 
to  Miss  Julie  Opp's  husband,  Mr.  Faversham,  who 
produced  his  "  Romeo  and  Juliet  "  in  America,  that 
he  obtained  a  foothold  in  the  theatrical  world,  and  he 
told  me  this  the  other  morning  after  breakfast  as 
he  took  me  into  his  drawing-room,  which,  again, 
like  everything  else  with  this  startling  young 
man,  is  in  violent  opposition  to  the  dining-room, 
which  is,  again,  the  antithesis  of  the  bedroom.  In 
fact,  as  I  said,  one  wanted  a  special  costume  or  ^ 
period  of  thought  and  mode  of  expression  for  each 
room. 

"  I  know,"  he  apologized  ;  "  but  it  can't  be  helped. 
"  I  can't  live  up  to  my  rooms.  Look  at  this  drawing- 
room — it's  not  even  '  to-day  '  ;  and  those  Jean  Cocteaux," 


156  TWO    MEN    AND    A    WOMAN 

he  continued,  pointing  as  he  spoke  to  two  magnificent 
designs   of   dancing   women,   one   on   each   side   of   the 
hearth,    brilUant,    daring,    impudent,    superb    in    colour 
and  design,  and  which  gave  character  and  atmosphere 
to  the  whole  room,  stamping  it  at  once  as  far  advanced 
in  the  twentieth  century,  "  why,  they  are  the  last  word  in 
the  art  of  '  to-morrow.'  "     Upon  a  table  lay  a  portfolio 
crammed  with  his  own  splendid  designs  for  dresses  in 
one  of  his  recent  productions,  sketches  which  surprised 
me  not  more  by  their  great  artistic  value  than  they  did 
by  the  real  scientific  knowledge  they  displayed,  evidence 
of  the  immense  pains  he  had  taken  in  working  up  the 
subject.      He   took  up  one   of  these   sketches — no  man 
more     learned    in    costume     in     London     than    he    is, 
neither     Percy    Macquoid,    nor    Percy    Anderson,     nor 
any    of    them,    and    none    of    them   with    such    decided 
and  original   opinions  about   them  either.      "  Costumes 
are  purely  a  matter  firstly  of  intuition,"  he  said,  "  and, 
secondly,  of  working  at  them  in  all  the  pictures  you  can 
get  hold  of  and  at  all  the  museums.     But  the  chief  thing 
is  a  feeling  for  pure   '  cut.'     That  is  all-essential  and 
that  is  what  these  men  miss,  as  sure  as  a  gun  every  time. 
*  Cut  '  was  to  the  full  as  important  in  Charles  I's  day 
as  it  is  this  moment  in  Savile  Row.     And  it  is  because 
our  great  costume  artists,  so-called,  fail  to  realize  this 
that  their  costumes  are  all  periodless.    Now,  look  here," 
he  went  on,  as  his  soldier  servant  fitted  him  into  a  little 
red   coatee,   brilliant   and   glittering  with   gold   lace   of 
the   days   of   George   IV.      "  There  I    that's   '  cut,'   and 
remember  '  cut  '  is  as  important  as  colour."     And  the 
pains  this   young  guardsman,  who   is   just  as  much  at 
home  in  the  trenches,  though  he  will  hate  me  for  saying 
it,   as   in   his   early   Victorian   dining-room,   takes   with 
these  same  costumes  of  his,  would  be  incredible  to  the 
man  who  thinks  that  a  soldier  turned  artist  must  neces- 


TWO    MEN    AND    A    WOMAN  157 

sarily  be  amateur  and  dilettante.  For  instance,  when  he 
put  on  a  certain  play  for  a  well-known  London  manager, 
he  had  every  piece  of  stuff  dyed  :the  exact  colour  he 
wanted,  because  he  could  not  get  it  right  any  other  way. 
And  the  rows  he  had  with  some  of  the  big  guns  behind 
the  scenes — stage  managers  and  scene-painters  and  lime- 
light arrangers.     But  he  didn't  care  a  d .     He  went 

at  them  for  all  he  was  worth,  particularly  for  one 
objectionable  beast,  and  he  won  all  along  the  line. 
Simmons,  the  costumier,  he  declared  was  a  marvel, 
but  then,  as  he  said,  the  best  in  any  line  of  life  always 
are.  "  He  was  jolly  good  at  his  job,  but  I  had  my  ideas 
and  I  told  him  what  they  were,  and  he  was  clever 
enough  to  see  I  was  right.  He's  a  perfect  marvel,  and 
of  course  both  the  managers  I've  worked  for  were  de- 
lightful, though  now  and  then  I  was  right  up  against 
some  of  their  most  cherished  convictions  and  conven- 
tions. The  lighting  !  My  hat  !  What  times  I've  had 
over  that  !  No  atmosphere  and  never  any  sunlight,  and 
their  moonlight  makes  me  sea-sick  even  to  think  of  it, 
as  sea-sick  as  it  made  me  pea-green  to  stand  in  it. 
The  convention  of  a  great  glare  from  the  footlights 
still  holds  them  in  its  iron  vice. 

"  Do     you     remember     the     first     scene     in     ? 

Well,  the  first  rehearsal  when  I  fixed  up  the 
lights    my    way,    the    chief    limelighter    screamed    out  : 

'  'Ere,  Mr. ,  you're  acting  in  a  b y  coal-hole.' 

He  didn't  repeat  it.  I  took  care  of  that.  The  great 
idea  is  to  '  pick  '  the  actors  up  with  the  light,  not  flood 
the  whole  stage. 

"  One  great  rule  as  regards  costumes  is  to 
remember  that  each  woman  has  a  waist,  and  that 
no  detail  is  too  unimportant  in  a  man's  dress.  I 
would  tear  the  shiny  buttons  off  a  man's  evening  coat 
mth  my   own   hands.      And   now   I've  got   to   tear  off 


158  TWO    MEN    AND    A   WOMAN 

to    barracks.      I'll   give   you   a    lift    if    you   are   goin^ 
my  way." 

And  talking  of  this  old  friend  of  mine  reminds  me  of 
another  old  friend,  Hugo  Ames,  whom  I  have  known 
ever  since  he  was  a  boy  of  fifteen  at  CJiarterhousei — 
Hugo  of  the  many  inches,  with  the  pleasant,  genial  smile 
that  has  won  him  friends  wherever  he  goes  all  his  life, 
and  with  the  refined  outlook  on  life  that  has  dis- 
tinguished his  whole  career,  chequered  as  it  has  un- 
doubtedly been  ;  yet  has  his  outlook  always  been  high- 
souled,  his  actions  always  those  of  a  fine-natured  man. 
And  I  mean  what  I  say,  despite  what  others  less  in- 
formed than  I  am  may  well  be  forgiven  for  saying  ; 
in  many  respects  Hugo  has  been  more  sinned  against 
than  sinning,  but  not  for  a  moment  would  I  venture 
to  assert  that  he  has  always  been  quite  free  from 
guilt  himself  ;  only  the  guilt  has  arisen  from  a  totally 
mistaken  conception  of  what  was  best  to  be  done  under 
very  difiticult  circumstances  ;  it  was  the  guilt  of  an 
ignorant  maker  of  man-made  laws  rather  than  the  guilt 
of  a  wilfully  sin-stained  soul. 

I  am  old-fashioned  enough  to  believe  that  the  God 
who  looks  down  upon  the  hearts  of  men  and  is  guided 
by  what  He  sees  there  rather  than  He  is  influenced 
by  their  actions  has  ^long  shice  pardoned  the  offence 
which  three  years  ago  landed  Hugo  and  his  newly 
wedded  wife  in  prison  under  a  charge  of  contempt  of 
court.  At  all  events,  I  know  enough  of  each  of  them 
and  of  the  circumstances  of  the  case  to  believe  firmly 
that  each  was  under  the  impression  that  they  were  free 
to  marry  one  another.  However,  there  is  no  need  to 
dwell  upon  that  phase  of  their  lives.  Hugo  and  his 
vdfe  are  each,  in  their  very  different  fashions,  quite 
admirable  as  public  speakers.  He  is  scholarly,  imagi- 
native,   singularly    thoughtful,    and    delightfully    dainty 


T.WO    MEN    AND    A   WOMAN  159 

in  his  outlook  on  life,  and  yet  with  a  curious  quality 
of  vision  :  to  him.  the  world  without  ourselves  is  so 
much  more  real  than  the  world  in  which  we  live  and 
move  and  have  our  material  being.  Mrs.  Ames  is  in 
keen  contrast  :  witty,  pungent,  very  human,  she  gives 
one  the  idea  that  she  would  sacrifice  a  friend  on  the 
altar  of  an  epigram  ;  but  I  don't  think  she  would,  all 
the  same.  They  resemble  one  another  in  one  respect, 
however  :  each  has  the  salvation  of  the  down-trodden 
ever  at  the  back  of  their  minds.  I  will  pass  on  to 
the  rather  curious  and  decidedly  original  career  which 
Hugo  and  Flora  Ames  have  carved  out  for  themselves, 
and  incidentally  hint  at  their  remarkable  personalities. 
I  will  touch  upon  that  rather  remarkable  society,  the 
Golden  Key,  which  they  started  some  four  or  five  years 
ago  and  which  for  a  time  promised  to  fulfil  its  lofty 
ideals.  It  was  a  society  mainly  established  for  the 
cultivation  and  propagation  of  the  purely  mystic  and 
ideal,  and  where  they  were  so  sadly  mistaken  was  in 
allowing  it  to  be  mixed  up  and  confused  with  ordinary 
spiritualism,  a  very  different  matter.  The  Golden  Key 
really  was  an  honest  searching  after  the  Higher  Life, 
combined  with  a  bold  and  definite  pronouncement  of 
deep  faith  in  and  complete  realization  of  that  spiritual 
life  of  which  this  present  earthly  life  of  ours  is  but  the 
visible  outcome. 

This  society  was,  in  short,  the  experiment  and  the 
expression,  as  it  were,  of  the  very  loftiest  kind  of 
spiritualism  that  it  is  possible  to  conceive,  and  its 
doctrines  were  not  only  accepted,  but  they  were  pro- 
mulgated and  enunciated  by  some  of  the  leading 
thinkers  of  the  day,  most  of  whom  would  have 
repudiated  with  disgust  and  distaste  the  vulgar  and 
unthinking  tenets  of  the  very  material  and  fleshly  school 
of  spiritualists  hailing  from  Chicago  and  the  Far  West. 


i6o  TWO    MEN    AND    A   WOMAN 

But  not  even  Hugo  or  his  wife,  with  all  their  keen 
literary  faculties  and  striving  after  a  really  lofty  and 
sublimated  ideal,  could  save  the  Golden  Key  from  the 
taint  of  these  horrible  people  and  their  still  more 
horrible  creed,  with  its  ridiculous  superstitions  and  its 
more  than  impossible  tenets  ;  and  so  the  poor  Golden 
Key  ceased  to  exist  just  at  the  moment  when  it  might, 
under  happier  auspices,  have  opened  the  door  to  the 
highest  and  noblest  ideals  that  lie  bathed  in  the  light 
of  the  Eternal,  far  on  the  other  side  of  Eternity., 
People  laughed  at  the  Golden  Key  simply  because  they 
were  too  dull  of  soul  to  realize  the  intention  and  the 
hopes  and  the  ideals  of  its  founders  :  the  typical 
Briton,  with  all  his  good  qualities,  is  a  dull  soul  and 
with  little  capacity  for  vision,  and  in  his  eyes  the  chief 
offence  of  people  like  the  Ameses  is  that  they  possess 
vision  and  imagination.  I  confess  myself  that  I 
realize  more  and  more  as  I  journey  through  life  the 
value  of  imagination.  "  The  people  without  a  vision 
perish."  Never  were  truer  words  written,  and  if  only 
for  their  recognition  of  the  ideal,  for  their  frank 
acknowledgement  of  that  world  of  dreams  that  lies  be- 
yond this  world  of  fact  and  commonplace,  the  Ameses 
deserve  at  least  the  silence  of  those  who  are  incapable 
of  vision  or  ideals  at  all. 

Hugo  and  his  wife  to-day  are  devoted  to  the  service 
of  humanity  generally,  and  more  especially  during  the 
present  crisis  to  the  aid  of  and  provision  for  the  sick 
and  suffering  in  this  horrible  war. 

Mrs.  Ames  has  turned  her  experiences  in  Holloway 
to  the  best  possible  use  by  her  articles  entitled  "  The 
Gates  of  Hell,"  and  by  her  constant  efforts  on  behalf 
of  those  of  her  sex  condemned  by  man-made  and  often 
cruel  and  ill-considered  laws  to  the  hideous  and  imjust 
and  unjustifiable  inhumanity  of  our  county   gaols  and 


TWO    MEN    AND    A   WOMAN  i6i 

large  convict  prisons.  I  feel  I  am  justified,  when  I 
reflect  upon  the  thoughtless,  butterfly,  irresponsible  lives 
of  so  many  men  and  women  of  the  present  day,  in 
introducing  these  two  hard-working,  self-sacrificing,  but 
much  misunderstood  and  often  shamefully  maligned 
persons,  Hugo  and  Flora  Ames,  into  the  list  of 
remarkable  people  whom  I  have  met  during  my 
career. 

After  all,  they  have  realized  that  man  attains  perfec- 
tion only  through  suffering  in  the  first  place,  and  in 
the  second  they  have  exemplified  in  their  own  persons 
the  truth  of  the  old  saying  that  you  must  never  be 
found  out  if  you  really  wish  to  get  on  in  the  world. 
The  Ames  will  maintain  naturally,  and  perhaps  rightly 
enough,  that,  having  done  nothing  wrong,  they  could 
not  very  well  be  described  as  having  been  found  out. 
But  I  use  the  phrase  deliberately,  because  had  it  not 
been  for  this  "  finding  out  "  they  would  never  have 
gone  to  prison,  and  the  world  would  have  suffered. 
No  sooner  were  they  released  than  they  set  to  work 
harder  than  ever  on  the  work  of  redemption,  their  own 
and  that  of  their  fellow-beings'.  And  to  give  a  con- 
crete example  of  this  I  may  state  that  Mrs.  Ames 
herself  has  recently  secured  two  thousand  votes  to  the 
new  Divorce  Bill. 

I  feel  persuaded  that  in  a  few  short  years  the  com- 
munity generally  will  realize  that  they  owe  a  great 
debt  to  those  two  people,  a  debt  which  it  will  be  not 
easy  adequately  to  discharge.  At  least,  that  is  my 
own  impression.  I  may  be  wrong,  but  I  do  not  think 
I  am,  though  some  people  will  say  that  my  long  friend- 
ship with  Hugo  and  my  sincere  appreciation  of  his 
wife's  many  super-excellent  qualities  blind  my  vision 
as  regards  their  many  failings.  To  which  I  reply, 
"  Rubbish  !  "      As    I    have   just    said,    the    Hugo    Ames 

12 


1 62  TWO    MEN    AND    A   WOMAN 

were  found  out,  and  they  and  their  work  will  be  all 
the  better  for  it  ;  their  critics  and  judges  have  not 
been  found  out,  and  they  are  and  will  be  all  the  worse 
for  it.  In  very  truth  the  Ames  are  in  the  better  case, 
and  therefore  it  is  I  feel  assured  that  the  future  holds 
good  for  them  and  for  those  whom  they  are  now  so 
faithfully  endeavouring  to  serve. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

SWITZERLAND   AND   THE    RIVIERA 

For  some  years,  up  to  four  years  ago,  I  was  in  the 
h^bit  of  touring  the  Riviera  and  giving  my  entertain- 
ments on  behalf  of  the  Waifs  and  Strays,  of  which 
my  friend  Captain  Brandreth  Gibbs  was  the  honorary 
continental  secretary.  Now  Captain  Gibbs  is  one  of 
the  most  appallingly  energetic  men  I  ever  met  ;  in 
fact,  one  friend  of  mine  who  toured  with  him  declared 
one  morning  when  he  was  turned  out  of  bed  at  five 
o'clock  that  Gibbs  must  in  a  previous  existence  have 
been  a  night-watchman,  so  prodigious  was  his  ferocious 
enthusiasm.  Any  society  which  can  obtain  the  services 
of  Captain  Gibbs  is  lucky  indeed.  He  is  a  fine, 
generous  man,  and  his  work  on  behalf  of  the  Society 
of  Waifs  and  Strays  has  been  as  remarkable  as  it  was 
entirely  salf -sacrificing.  I  never  think  of  him  without 
a  thrill  of  enthusiasm  for  one  of  the  best  and  most 
self-denying  men  I  have  ever  known.  At  all  events, 
however  that  may  be,  he  got  hold  of  me  and  suggested 
that  I  should  tour  the  Riviera  and  Switzerland  and 
give  entertainments  for  his  beloved  waifs.  I  agreed, 
stipulating,  however,  that  as  I  lived  by  thought- 
reading  I  must  in  common  fairness  be  allowed  to  share 
in  the  profits.  "  You  know,  Gibbs,"  said  I,  "  the 
labourer  is   worthy  of   his   hire   in   the  first  place,   and 

in   the   second   place   it    is   not   for   me   to   cheapen   my 

163 


1 64      SWITZERLAND   AND   THE   RIVIERA 

own  gifts,   and  thirdly  people  never  think  anything  of 
what  they  can  get  for  nothing." 

Indeed,  I  used  very  often  to  be  extremely  annoyed 
when  my  chairmen,  such  men  as  that  splendid  Bishop 
of  Birmingham,  Russell  Wakefield,  and  others,  used 
to  thank  me  for  my  services,  evidently  under  the  im- 
pression I  was  giving  them  entirely.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  I  was  not,  and  as  a  matter  of  principle,  as  I 
have  already  explained,  1  rarely  do.  I  must  make  it 
clear  that  I  never  got  anything  out  of  the  big 
subscribers.  I  simply  had  a  small  percentage 
on  the  takings,  little  more  than  was  sufficient  to 
pay  my  very  heavy  expenses.  At  the  same  time  I 
wish  it  to  be  plainly  understood  that  I  have  benefited 
these  charities  enormously,  and  I  have  never  failed 
to  secure  them  money  which  it  would  have  been  almost 
impossible  for  them  to  have  obtained  otherwise.  It  is 
a  curious  thing  that  whilst  I  obtained  any  amount  of 
ready  sympathy  and  help  from  the  English  residents 
in  and  visitors  to  the  Rivierai,  I  almost  invariably  found 
that  the  chaplains  in  each  place  were  most  disagree- 
ably opposed  both  to  Captain  Gibbs  and  myself.  I 
write  vigorously  and  plainly  on  these  men,  for  I  was 
much  disgusted  and  frequently  very  indignant  with  their 
narrow-minded  hostility.  Absolutely  different  from  the 
chaplains  in  Switzerland  or  their  clerical  brethren  in 
England.  Please  understand  that.  They  stand  a  class 
apart,  and,  as  a  rule,  they  are  highly  and  deservedly 
unpopular,  however  much  people  may  award  them  an 
unwilling  meed  of  respect.  Perhaps  the  reason  for  their 
amazing  lack  of  charitableness  is  owing  to  the  fact 
that  certain  societies  have  made  a  point  of  exploiting 
the  Riviera  rather  at  the  expense  and  to  the  possible 
detriment  of  these  good  men  themselves.  I  can 
imagine  that  the  spectacle  of  Wilson  Carlile,  the  famous 


SWITZERLAND    AND    THE   RIVIERA       165 

head  of  the  Church  Army,  swooping'  down  like  a  huge 
vulture  upon  the  devoted  heads  of  English  visitors  to 
Hyeres,  Cannes,  Nice,  and  Mentone  must  be  as  gall 
and  vinegar  to  the  unfortunate  chaplains.  However, 
I  have  said  enough  on  this  matter.  I  used  to  give 
my  entertainments  as  a  rule  in  the  hotel  lounges,  and 
it  often  required  considerable  confidence  in  one's  own 
power  and  devotion  to  one's  cause  to  suddenly  break 
in  upon  people  reading,  playing  the  piano  or  a  game 
of  bridge  with  a  ringing  announcement  that  "  Mr. 
Alfred  Capper  will  now  give  his  entertainment  on  behalf 
of  the  Waifs  and  Strays  "  ;  but  on  the  whole  people, 
though  grumbling  perhaps  for  the  first  three  minutes, 
speedily  settled  down  to  an  evening  of  hearty  and 
often  enthusiastic  enjoyment. 

The  change  from  the  Riviera  to  the  winter  sports 
resorts  in  Switzerland,  where  I  often  gave  my  enter- 
tainments for  Captain  Gibbs'  Society,  was  very  marked. 
I  quite  revelled  in  the  brilliant  sunshine  and  the 
champagne-like  atmosphere  of  a  Swiss  winter  day,  and 
I  really  loved  the  delightful  people  I  met  there  in 
such  glowing  profusion.  Of  course,  the  leading  spirits 
in  these  sports  were  Sir  Henry  Lunn  and  Lord 
Lyveden,  who  started  them  ;  Lord  Lytton,  Mrs. 
Asquith,  Mr.  E.  F.  Benson,  Mr.  Hall  Caine,  and  many 
others.  Sir  Henry  Lunn  is  a  remarkable  man,  and  I 
must  just  pause  a  moment  upon  the  personality  which 
is  most  responsible  for  the  foundation  of  these  wonderful 
sports,  and  which  fascinates  by  its  vitality  and  its  brilli- 
ance. The  son  of  a  Lincolnshire  man  of  business  and 
once  a  medical  missionary  in  India,  who  had  taken  high 
honours  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  Dr.  Lunn  came 
to  his  remarkable  career  in  the  world  of  touring  and 
travel  by  way  of  the  famous  religious  conferences  which 
he  started,  in  company   with   the   late  Bishop   Perowne 


1 66      SWITZERLAND    AND    THE    RIVIERA 

and   Dean   Farrar,   five-and-twenty   years   ago.      These 
were    a    great    success    and    a    great    and    remarkable 
feature  in  the  religious  life  of  the  early  'nineties,  and 
many  a  theological  problem  did  he  and  famous  Anglican 
and  Nonconformist  dignitaries  thrash  out  together  with 
the  smiling  and  tempestuous  aid  of  that  wonderful  man 
W.    T.    Stead  on   the   sunny   slopes   of   Chamounix   and 
Grindelwald.     The  energetic  young  medical  missionary, 
who   had   just   previously   created   a   mild   sensation   by 
his      outspoken      denunciation     of     certain     missionary 
methods     and     practices     in     India,     was     always     the 
life  and  soul  of  the  meetings,   and   his  fiery  eloquence 
and  fine  thought  rarely  failed  to   win  adherents  to  the 
cause  for  which  he  pleaded  with  so  much  sincerity  and 
enthusiasm.      Dr.    Lunn   is   a   man   strictly   sni  generis. 
You    cannot   often   meet    his    counterpart.        He    is    ex- 
tremely well  read,  though  one  hardly  knows  when  and 
how  he   finds   time   to   keep   so   thoroughly  au   courant 
da    jour   as    he   always   is,    and   he   can    talk   and   does 
talk    brilliantly    and    informingly    upon    almost    every 
subject    under    the    sun.       With    a    curious    subtlety    of 
thought    and    a    capacity    for    vision    and    idealism    he 
combines   the  practical  outlook  of   the  man   of   affairs, 
and,  which  is  more  wonderful  still,  he  possesses  a  re- 
markable flair  for  the  coming  craze  and  as  remarkable 
a    capacity    for    finance    as    is    possessed    by    such    men 
as   Sir  Thomas  Sutherland,   the   late   Sir  Alfred  Jones, 
or  Sir  Owen  Phillipps,  whilst  curiously  enough  all  the 
time,  and  in  marked  contrast  to  any  one  of  the  afore- 
said  men  of  mark,   he   has   a    real  genius   for  politics. 
Far   more   than  is   generally   supposed   Henry   Lunn   is 
in  the  confidence  and  behind  the  counsels  of  the  great 
Liberal    Party.      And  that  my   praise  of   this  advanced 
Radical  is  really  genuine  and  is  really  extorted  altnost 
unwillingly   from  me   will   be   readily   believed   when   I 


SWITZERLAND    AND    THE   RIVIERA       167 

state  that  I  myself  am  a  bigoted  and  old-fashioned 
High  Tory  and  High  Anglican.  From  the  religious 
conferences  Lunn  proceeded  to  Swiss  travel  and  then  to 
Mediterranean  and  Palestinian  tours  in  the  famous 
Argonaut.  He  is  a  real  genius  in  the  building  up  and 
organization  of  a  great  business,  as  was  evidenced  by 
his  gigantic  schemes  for  Edward  Vll's  coronation  week 
in  that  famous  and  fatal  June  of   1902. 

Dr.  Lunn's  fine  work  on  behalf  of  international  com- 
merce and  amity  with  Germany  is  known  to  all  ;  the 
pity  of  it  is  that  it  has  all  tumbled  into  nothingness  owing 
to  this  hideous  war.  Lunn's  lieutenant,  Lord  Lyveden, 
is,  in  quite  another  way,  almost  as  remarkable  a  man  as 
his  distinguished  chief.  He  has  had  a  singularly  event- 
ful and  varied  life  in  his  day,  and,  mainly  owing  to  his 
kindly  geniality  and  his  utter  disregard  of  silly  con- 
ventionalities, he  is  a  quite  amazingly  and  deservedly 
popular  person  in  whatever  society  he  may  happen  to 
be.  And,  in  addition  to  the  great  social  gift  of  entire 
amiability  of  character  and  sweetness  of  disposition, 
he  is  a  remarkably  clever  entertainer.  I  remember 
crying — absolutely  crying — with  laughter  when  he  gave 
his  entertainment  in  caricature  of  my  own  the  previous 
night,      entitled     "  Alfred     Snapper's     Entertainment." 

What  astonished  me  so  much  was  the  marvellous 
organization  of  these  winter  sports,  which  were  carried 
out  under  the  auspices  and  by  a  Committee  of  the 
Public  Schools  Alpine  Sports  Club,  which  was  founded 
by  Sir  Henry  Lunn,  whose  sons  were  at  Harrow.  At 
haphazard  I  take  up  a  paper  which  refers  to  the  various 
cups  and  prizes  offered  in  these  now  world-famous 
sports  :  the  Russell-Wakefield  Toboganning  Cup  ;  the 
Rhone  Valley  Ski-ing  Cup  ;  the  John  Baron  Ski-ing 
Cup  ;  the  Shotton  Ski-ing  Challenge  Cup;  Public 
Schools  Golf  Challenge  Cup  ;    the  Lady  Muriel  Watkins 


1 68      SWITZERLAND   AND   THE   RIVIERA 

Challenge  Cup  ;  the  Lytton  Challenge  Cup;  Oxford 
and  Cambridge  Ice  Hockey  Challenge  Cup,  and  so 
ad  infinitum.  Sir  Henry  Lunn's  genius  has  de- 
veloped these  sports  into  a  mighty  business  of  Imperial 
significance. 

There  is  nothing,  I  think,  more  delightful  than 
awaking  in  Switzerland  in  time  to  catch  the  first  rays 
of  the  early  morning  sun  transforming  the  glittering- 
silver  of  the  snows  into  gold  or  crimson  hues  ;  the 
wonderful  air,  the  deathly  stillness  of  the  mountains, 
upon  which  is  borne  the  tinkle  of  the  bells  or  the 
faint,  far-off  music  of  a  mountain  horn  ;  the  delicious 
taste  of  the  snow  and  ice  suggested  in  every  breath 
you  draw,  the  delightful  hot  coffee  and  the  rolls  and 
Swiss  honey,  and  then  the  sauntering  forth  beneath  a 
blaze  of  sunshine  and  the  contemplation  of  or  the  sharing 
in  the  varied  sports  of  the  day.  The  skating  and  ski-ing 
fascinated  me  enormously,  and  not  less  by  reason  of 
its  facile  accomplishment  by  such  masters  of  the  art 
as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Edgar  Syers,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grenander, 
and  Mr.  E.  F.  Benson  the  novelist,  as  for  the  fact 
that  it  told  such  a  talc  of  discipline  and  perseverance 
and  was  such  an  exhibition  of  that  character  which 
shrinks  from  nothing  that  is  possible  to  humanity  and 
which  will  give  in  to  no  power  on  earth. 

I  revelled,  too,  in  the  sense  of  rhythm  and  balance 
that  each  clever  performer  revealed  ;  it  betrayed  such 
mastery  of  and  control  over  the  human  body,  such 
knowledge  of  motion,  so  perfect  a  grasp  of  the  laws 
of  gravity.  How  one  envied  the  man  or  woman  who 
one  moment  was  flying  down  the  long  opening  on 
the  deep,  leaving  all  the  world  behind  him  and 
plunging  into  the  silence  of  the  primaeval  forests,  or 
at  another  moment  was  executing  the  most  graceful 
and  the  most  involved  figures  upon  the  ice  ;    and  the 


SWITZERLAND    AND    THE   RIVIERA       169 

ring  of  the  skates  in  those  lovely  mountain  solitudes, 
the  dark  green  of  the  fir-clad  hills,  the  magnificent 
vaults  of  blue  into  which  those  gigantic  mountains 
pushed  their  glittering  spurs  ! 

Why,  it  almost  makes  me  literary  to  write  about  it  ; 
or,  at  all  events,  it  makes  me  long  for  the  pen  of  a 
really  ready  writer  to  describe  all  the  sensations 
I  underwent  during  one  long  sun-bathed  winter  day 
in  Montana  or  Lenzerheide  or  Grindelwald. 

Lunn  has  benefited  the  physique  of  the  whole  British 
race  by  the  grand  work  he  has  accomplished  in  the 
formation  of  these  splendid  winter  sports. 

One  great  feature  of  this  winter  life  in  Switzerland 
is  the  remarkable  effect  it  has  upon  the  cold,  some- 
what ungenial  character  of  the  ordinary  stay-at-home 
Englishman.  There,  under  the  auspices  of  the  Public 
Schools  Club,  human  nature  becomes  absolutely  trans- 
mogrified, and  the  grim  faces  of  the  English  glitter 
with  smiles  as  much  as  the  snows  on  the  mountain-side 
glitter  beneath  the  rays  of  the  winter  sun — and  for  the 
same  reason.  It  is  wonderful  the  efifect  of  climate  on 
the  human  body,  and  even  more  on  the  human  mind, 
for  the  exhilaration  is  quite  as  much  mental  as  it  is 
physical.  I  don't  think  an  animal  would  be  nearly  as 
much  affected  by  it.  And  the  people  too  are  so  varied  : 
actors  and  actresses  and  suffragettes  and  parsons  and 
schoolmasters  and  young  'Varsity  dons  and  soldiers 
and  sailors  and  lawyers  and  doctors — they  are  all  there 
and  all  forgetting  their  own  line  of  life,  and  all  sub- 
merged in  the  glittering,  glowing  life  of  the  passing 
moment. 

And  this  specially  applies  to  schoolmasters.  You 
could  scarcely  throw  a  stone  without  hitting  an  English 
public-school  master  on  the  head,  and,  do  you  know, 
they   are   really,   when   you   get   to   know   them  in   the 


I70      SWITZERLAND    AND    THE   RIVIERA 

intimacy  of  a  game  of  curling,  or  of  hockey,  or  on  the 
famous  Cresta  Run,  the  most  interesting  people  you 
could  possibly  imagine.  People  imagine  the  typical 
schoolmaster  to  be  narrow  in  his  outlook,  and,  owing 
to  his  profession,  to  be  almost  childish  in  his  limita- 
tions and  most  unpleasantly  autocratic  and  peremptory 
in  his  dealings  with  the  outside  world.  But  he  is  not 
really  so.  Like  the  Bishop  on  holiday  who  declared 
that  at  such  a  time  a  curate  could  play  with  him,  the 
typical  English  public-school  master  on  his  holiday  is 
a  very  delightful  man.  And  so  extraordinarily  well- 
informed.  I  have  met  many  of  the  so-called  literary 
men  of  the  day,  but  few  are  so  really  and  deeply 
literary  an  fond  as  the  high-class  schoolmaster,  with 
whom  literature  is  not  only  a  tradition  but  a  great 
birthright,  and  not  a  means  to  success  in  the  material 
part    of    life. 

I  revelled  in  my  Swiss  experiences  because  they 
helped  to  reveal  my  own  countrymen  to  me  in  a  light 
in  which  I  had  never  seen  them  before  and  as  men 
and  women  whom  I  had  no  idea  existed  in  the  British 
Isles. 

I  have  left  myself  no  room  to  describe  my  own 
performances  in  Switzerland.  Indeed,  they  were  exactly 
the  same  as  elsewhere,  and,  though  I  am  delighted  to 
remember  that  I  made  a  great  deal  of  money  for 
Captain  Gibbs's  excellent  Society,  I  myself  benefited 
ever  more  by  my  experiences  in  the  world  of  snow. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

THE   SOLDIERS'   BISHOP 

On  the  whole,  I  think  that  the  Rev.  Arthur  Robms, 
Rector  of  Holy  Trinity,  Windsor,  Chaplain  to  Her 
Majesty  Queen  Victoria  and  to  H.R.H.  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  our  late  King,  Chaplain  to  the  Household  Troops 
at  Windsor,  was  perhaps  the  most  remarkable  per- 
sonality of  all  the  well-known  and  extraordinarily 
variegated  people  I  have  met.  He  stood  absolutely 
in  a  class  of  his  own.  How  well  I  remember  him,  and 
how  I  loved  his  genial  personality  !  A  big,  broad- 
shouldered,  clean-shaven,  imposing -looking  man,  full 
of  innocent  vanities,  full  too  of  the  most  generous 
impulses,  crammed  with  the  funniest  little  jealousies, 
which,  however,  never  deterred  him  from  doing  a  good 
action,  secretly,  whenever  he  could  to  one  of  his 
numerous  detractors  and  enemies,  though,  make  no 
doubt  of  it,  he  was  a  doughty  champion  and  a  keen 
hitter  whilst  he  was  actually  fighting  ;  a  man  who  never 
bore  malice,  and  yet  one  who  would  not  be  above  a 
hearty  chuckle  over  the  discomfiture  of  an  enemy.  A 
man  to  love  at  all  times,  to  beware  of  on  occasion,  but 
always  straight  up  and  down  and  speaking  out  his 
mind,  in  season  and  out  of  season,  and  absolutely 
detesting  and  loathing  the  snob,  the  hypocrite,  or  the 
tyrant. 

I  speak  with  authority,  as  I  knew  him  almost  better 
than  any  other  man,  woman,  or  child  in  Windsor,  where 

171 


172  THE   SOLDIERS'    BISHOP 

I  spent  every  Sunday  in  his  company  for  at  least 
thirteen  years  during  his  eventful  stay  in  the  Royal 
Borough.  As  a  preacher,  Arthur  Robins  was  unique. 
Really,  to  be  frank — and  I  am  rather  a  judge  in  these 
matters,  no  old-fashioned  Scotch  elder  ever  having  been 
a  more  enthusiastic  sermon-taster  than  I  have  been 
all  my  life — he  was  not  a  very  good  preacher  ;  he  was 
not  particularly  original  ;  he  was  no  scholar  ;  he  wasn't 
a  bit  of  a  thinker  ;  and  yet,  somehow  or  another,, 
everybody  was  happy  when  "  dear  old  Robins  "  got 
up  in  the  pulpit.  "  There's  dear  old  Cock  Robin  on 
his  perch  again,"  the  stalwart  Lifeguardsmen  used  joy- 
fully to  say  when  they  replaced  their  brothers  of  the 
Royal  Horse  Guards  ;  and  even  Mr.  Gladstone  would 
always  come  and  listen  to  Robins  in  preference  to  the 
more  stately  preachers  at  St.  George's  ;  whilst  Attila, 
the  Hun,  as  it  is  now  the  fashion  to  denominate  the 
German  Emperor,  made  a  point  of  always  sitting  under 
"  the  soldiers'  Bishop,"  as  he  and  King  Edward  affec- 
tionately christened  him,  an  affection  which  was  shared 
by  most  members  of  the  Royal  Family,  and  which 
they  amply  testified  by  the  innumerable  presents  and 
photographs  with  which  they  inundated  the  Rectory 
of  Holy  Trinity. 

And  Robins  loved  his  Queen,  whilst  he  was  absolutely 
devoted  to  his  Prince.  Well  can  I  remember  his 
preaching  once  on  King  David  and  alluding  to  those 
famous  words  of  the  Psalmist  :  "  Put  not  your  trust 
in  princes,  nor  in  any  child  of  man."  "  Ah,  my  dear 
brethren,"  said  he  as  he  gazed  round  the  long  lines  of 
splendidly  uniformed  and  clanking  soldiers — "  ah  !  but 
David  would  never  have  said  that  had  he  known  our 
beloved  Prince  of  Wales  !  "  He  would  frequently  make 
the  most  ridiculous  little  mistakes  in  preaching.  I 
remember  once  he  waxed  very  eloquent  in  describing 


THE   SOLDIERS'   BISHOP  173 

the  love  of  the  Eternal  One  :  "  Dear  friends— all  of 
you,  soldiers  and  damsels  alike — you  all  know  and  you 
all  love  and  you  probably  all  sing — at  least,  those  only 
of  you,  I  trust,  who  can  sing — that  pathetic  and  delight- 
ful song  '  The  Lost  Chord,'  the  cord,  my  dear  friends, 
the  constraining  love  of  the  Lord,  of  which  we  hold  one 
end  on  earth  and  the  other  rests  for  ever  in  the  hands 
of    the    Almighty  !  " 

I  have  said  he  was  full  of  the  most  innocent  vanities, 
and  one  of  them  displayed  itself  to  the  utmost  when  he 
suddenly  startled  Windsor  one  day  by  appearing  in 
a  hat  and  a  costume  which  he  had  invented  for  himself, 
and  which,  he  declared,  carried  out  to  the  life  "  the 
vivid  and  actual  idea  of  '  the  soldiers'  Bishop.'  "  And, 
indeed,  as  he  stood  proudly  before  me,  with  his  splendid 
height  drawn  up  to  the  last  inch,  and  his  portly  frame 
full  of  irrepressible  and  ebullient  and  overpowering 
dignity,  clad  in  this  queer  uniform  frock-coat,  as  much 
befrogged  and  beribboned  as  a  cavalry  officer's  undress 
coat,  I  could  not  help  owning,  to  his  great  gratification, 
that  he  was  the  most  bishopy  person  I  had  ever  seen — 
and  so,  indeed,  he  was  ! 

Arthur  Robins  was  devoted  to  the  great  people  of 
the  earth  ;  he  adored  princes,  he  loved  a  lord.  Some 
people  might  have  called  him  a  snob — ^and  so  he  would 
have  been  if  he  had  not  equally  loved  and  been  equally 
devoted  to  the  poor,  to  the  sick  and  destitute,  and  the 
homeless,  the  weary,  and  the  broken-hearted.  To  them 
Arthur  Robins  was  the  greatest  friend  they  had  ever 
known,  but,  not  to  be  profane,  he  was  often  their  very- 
saviour,  and  they  simply  idolized  the  man.  Never  was 
a  parson  more  worshipped  by  his  poor  people,  and 
never  did  a  clergyman  more  thoroughly  earn  that  love 
or  deserve  it  better.  To  me  he  was  an  extraordinary 
combination   of    Cardinal    Wolsey   and   St.    Francis    of 


174  THE   SOLDIERS'   BISHOP 

Assisi,  and,  speaking  personally,  I  loved  him  in  either 
role,  for  the  simple  reason  that  he  was  always  absolutely 
and  entirely  and  unaffectedly  himself.  With  the  soldiers 
it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  he  was  the  hero  of 
their  lives.  For  seven-and-twenty  years  he  served  them 
as  their  chaplain,  and  they  never  forgot  him.  I  often 
used  to  walk  down  Oxford  or  Regent  Street  with  him, 
and  it  was  delightful  to  see,  time  after  time,  how  the 
stalwart  commissionaires  at  the  great  shop  doors,  many 
of  whom  had  been  stationed  at  Windsor  in  their 
soldiering  days,  would  come  to  the  salute  as  he  sailed 
gallantly  past  them — that  is  the  only  way  in  which  I 
can  describe  his  ineffable  progress  down  a  great  public 
thoroughfare  ;  he  always  reminded  me  of  an  old  line- 
of -battle  ship  coming  up  Channel  in  full  sail — and  how 
he  would  stop  and  shake  each  man  by  the  hand  : 
"  Well,  Smith,  glad  to  see  you  haven't  forgotten  me 
yet." 

"  Forgotten  you,  sir?  Not  likely — not  in  a  thousand 
years  I  " 

Robins  loved  a  good  story,  and  he  could  always  be 
reckoned  on  to  tell  a  good  one  himself.  I  was  very 
much  amused  once  when  he  told  me  of  an  incident 
that  had  occurred  to  him  at  his  previous  parish.  The 
verger  of  the  church  had  always  given  him  a  great  deal 
of  trouble  on  account  of  his  drinking  habits,  and  at 
last  one  day  when  he  had  been  worse  than  usual 
Robins  gave  him  the  sack  then  and  there. 

"  All  right,"  said  the  still  half-intoxicated  verger, 
"  all  right,  guv'nor,  but  you'll  have  to  give  me  a 
month's  wages." 

"  Well,"  said  Robins,  "  that's  not  my  business  ;  you 
must  go  and  see  my  churchwarden,  and  settle  with  him 
as  to  that."  Off  waddled  the  inebriated  one  to  the 
churchwarden,  who  was  also  the  parish  doctor,  and  who 


THE   SOLDIERS'   BISHOP  175 

refused  to  give  the  verger  the  money  unless  he  had  it 
down  in  black  and  white  from  the  Rector  himself. 

"  Black   and   White?  "   said  the   verger. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  churchwarden.  "  I  must  have  it 
down  in  black  and  white,  or  I   won't  give  it  to  you." 

Back  to  the  Rectory  walked  the  man.  On  the 
Rector's  appearance  he  said  :  "I  have  seen  the  doctor, 
sir,  and  he'll  let  me  have  the  money  as  soon  as  you 
send  him  a  bottle  of  whisky,  not  before,  and  he  prefers 
Black   and   White  !  " 

Robins  could  be  really  witty  and  extremely  ready 
of  speech  on  occasion.  I  remember  once  I  went  with 
him  and  the  famous  architect  G.  E.  Boddely,  who  had 
come  down  in  connection  with  the  re-decoration  of 
Holy  Trinity  Church.  We  all  three  walked  slowly 
round  the  building,  Robins  suggesting  to  Mr.  Boddely 
what  he  wanted  done.  Arrived  at  the  pulpit,  the  famous 
architect  turned  to  him  and  said,  "  And  what  text 
would  you  like  to  have  painted  round  the  pulpit,  Mr. 
Robins?  " 

Like  a  shot  Robins,  with  a  sly  glance  at  me,  replied  : 
"  Well,  Mr.  Boddely,  what  do  you  say  to  this  :  '  Is  it 
nothing  that  ye  weary  my  people,  but  that  ye  must 
weary  my  God  also?  '  " 

Another  capital  story  Robins  used  to  tell  referred  to 
a  very  smart  lady,  the  wife  of  the  Commander-in- 
Chief  at  a  great  southern  port.  It  happened  a  good 
many  years  ago,  and  just  about  the  time  that  cremation 
was  becoming  rather  fashionable.  Well,  it  chanced 
that  a  well-known  firm  of  cremating  undertakers,  or 
whatever  they  call  themselves,  happened  to  send  this 
lady  one  of  their  prospectuses.  She  was  vastly  in- 
terested in  it,  and  wrote  by  return  to  say  she  would 
be  glad  if  they  would  send  down  one  of  their  men  as 
soon  as  possible,   meaning',   though   she   did   not   enter 


1/6  THE   SOLDIERS'   BISHOP 

into  details,  that  the  man  could  then  explain  the  matter 
more  fully.  Now  it  so  happened  that  on  the  following 
day  the  Commander-in-Chief  gave  a  very  smart  garden- 
party,  to  which  Royalty  and  all  the  county  were  invited. 
Just  in  the  middle  of  the  festivities,  flags  flying,  bands 
playing,  lawn-tennis  and  tea  and  ices  and  flirtation  and 
lovely  women  and  smart  frocks,  and  handsome  men, 
and  frivolous  subalterns  and  saucy  damsels,  all  in  full 
blast,  so  to  speak,  the  hostess,  Lady  C ,  was  horri- 
fied to  observe  a  hearse  driven  solemnly  up  to  the  door, 
and  a  moment  or  two  afterwards  her  butler  was  seen 
crossing  the  lawn  towards  her  ladyship,  closely  followed 
by  an  ultra-funereal  person  clad  in  top-hat,  craped  up 
to  the  very  top,  white  tie,  long  frock-coat,  and  white 
gloves.  Arrived  before  Lady  C he  bowed  pro- 
foundly, although,  truth  to  speak,  he  looked  very  puzzled 
and  somewhat  ill  at  ease,  as  well  he  might  be.  "  And 
what  do  you  want,  my  good  man?  "  said  the  lady 
very  austerely.  "  If  you  please,  my  lady,"  very  ner- 
vously replied  the  man,  "  I've  come  for  the  corpse  : 
what  day  do  you  wish  the  cremation  and  the  funeral 
to    take   place?  " 

Here  is  another  of  Mr.  Robins's  little  stories,  the 
truth  of  which  I  can  personally  vouch  for,  as  I  myself 
heard  the  royal  servant  who  was  present  on  the  occa- 
sion referred  to  in  the  story  relate  it  to  the  Rector  of 
Holy  Trinity.  It  appeared,  according  to  this  man,  that 
he  was  actually  standing  behind  Her  Majesty  Queen 
Victoria  as  she  sat  at  dinner,  with  on  one  side  of  her 
the  then  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  the  gruff  and 
grumpy  Dr.  Temple,  and  on  the  other  side  Dr.  Randall 
Davidson,  the  present  Archbishop,  but  who  was  then 
Bishop  of  Winchester,  a  greater  contrast  than  whom 
to  the  surly  old  prelate  one  could  not  possibly  imagine. 
Her  Majesty  turned  towards  a  certain  colonial  bishop. 


c 


"THIC   SOLDIKRS'    BISHOP." 

(The  Htv.  Aitluir  Kobins.) 

Reproduced  from  Wiitily  I'air  (by  Idiid  permission). 


THE    SOLDIERS'    BISHOP  177 

who  was  seated  next  to  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
and  said,  "  You  know,  Dr.  So-and-So,  I  can  well  re- 
member you  preaching  at  Balmoral  twenty-two  years 
ago." 

The  Bishop  of  Winchester  then  said  :  "  Really,  your 
Majesty,  your  memory  is  marvellous,  absolutely 
miraculous." 

"  Nart  at  arl,"  snarled  Dr.  Temple,  in  his  gruffest 
tone.      "  I   told   Her  Majesty  myself   before   dinner  I  " 

This  incident  reveals  each  prelate  exactly  as  he 
was.  In  fact,  it  is  an  absolute  portrait  in  words  of 
each   man. 

Robins  was  very  fond  of  the  following  story,  which 
referred  to  a  lady  who  came  down  to  deliver  a  lecture 
at  the  Cavalry  Barracks  on  a  new  system  of  calis- 
thenics, in  which  she  was  deeply  interested,  and  of 
which    she   was    a    famous    exponent. 

She  was  an  enormously  stout  person,  stouter  even 
than  our  friend  John  Bunny. 

"  Weil,"  said  the  Rector,  in  telling  the  story,  "  she 
was  hot  in  one  of  her  lectures,  which  was  on  a  certain 
system  of  physical  measurement,  and  here  is  how  she 
demonstrated  it.  '  Now,  men,'  she  said,  *  listen  care- 
fully. Twice  round  my  thumb  is  once  round  my  wrist  ; 
twice  round  my  wrist  is  once  round  my  neck  ;  twice 
round  my  neck  is  once  round  my  waist  ;  and  twice 
round    my    waist    is ' 

"  *  Once  round  'Yde  Park,  mum  !  '  came  a  rude  voice 
from    the   back   of  the   hall." 

Robins  was  not  only  a  great  puzzle  to  me,  but  he 
was  also  superbly  interesting,  for  one  side  of  his  nature 
always  appeared  to  be  in  violent  contradiction  to  the 
other.  There  is  no  doubt  that,  in  the  most  harmless 
and  most  inoffensive  meaning  of  the  word,  one  of  his 
besetting  sins  was  a  decided  tendency,  as  I  have  already 

13 


178  THE   SOLDIERS'   BISHOP 

hinted,  to  what  is  known  as  snobbery,  and  yet  never 
in  this  world  was  there  a  man  more  passionately  inde- 
pendent. He  had  an  absolute  fever  for  independence 
and  the  right  of  every  man  to  speak  out  his  own  mind, 
which  perhaps  was  one  reason  why  he  never  really 
liked  or  was  liked  by  his  brethren  of  the  cloth.  I 
remember  once  at  one  of  those  delightful  Sunday  even- 
ing suppers,  where  all  religious  matters  were  absolutely 
taboo — "  No  shop  in  this  house  on  Sunday  evening," 
he  used  to  say,  "  after  eight  o'clock  "—a  guest  who 
was  present,  and  who  was  ignorant  of  the  Rector's  rule, 
started  an  argument  with  another  guest  on  the  respective 
merits  or  demerits  of  Christianity  and  atheism,  and 
both  the  opponents  appealed  to  Robins  for  his  opinion 
on  the  matter.  "  Christianity,  my  dear  young  men, 
has  existed  for  two  thousand  years,  and  it  will  continue 
to  exist — in  spite  of  the  parsons  !  "  Of  course  Robins, 
as  is  well  known,  did  not  always  have  things  quite 
his  own  way  in  Windsor,  and  many  of  my  readers  will 
remember  the  tremendous  sensation  he  caused^  not  only 
in  the  Royal  Borough  itself  but  throughout  the  whole 
land,  by  his  violent  attack  upon  the  Corporation  of 
Windsor,  in  which  he  accused  them  practically  of  being 
the  murderers,  body  and  soul,  of  the  poor  people  who 
dwelt  in  Bier  Lane,  an  unspeakably  miserable  and 
degraded  portion  of  his  parish,  which  bordered  close  on 
the  walls  of  the  Castle  itself.  There  never  was  such  a 
row  in  this  world,  and  to  make  matters  worse  Arthur 
Robins  exposed  the  whole  affair  in  the  columns  of  the 
Times  and  the  Moniing  Post,  whilst  the  Dean,  our 
present  Archbishop,  took  counsel  and  sides  with  the 
Mayor  and  Aldermen,  and  reported  the  whole  matter 
to  the  old  Queen,  who  in  turn  was  furious  with  the 
turbulent  priest  ;  and  the  poor  people  even,  who  had 
to  be  disturbed  in  their  ancient  ways,  never  mind  how 


THE   SOLDIERS'   BISHOP  179 

horrible  those  ways  may  be,  turned  for  a  time  against 
their  beloved  pastor,  and  burnt  him  in  effigy  on  Guy 
Fawkes'  Day  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames,  whilst  the 
soldiers,  who  were  nothing  if  they  were  not  passionately 
loyal  to  their  own  "  bishop,"  started  a  series  of  appalling 
battles,  which  raged  up  and  down  the  streets  for  days. 
Eventually  the  feeling  grew  so  bad  that  Robins  got 
hold  of  a  "  local  demon,"  as  he  humorously  termed  him, 
locked  up  the  Rectory,  and  with  his  family  went  away 
for  a  period  of  six  or  seven  months.  Then  he  came 
back,  and  was  invited  to  the  Mayoral  Banquet  on 
November  ist,  where,  amid  at  first  a  chilly  silence, 
he  was  called  upon  to  respond  to  the  toast  for  the 
bishop  and  clergy  of  the  diocese.  Robins,  I  need 
scarcely  add,  nothing  daunted,  rose  to  the  occasion  and 
to   his   feet. 

"  Mr.  Mayor  and  Aldermen,"  he  began,  "  last  year 
almost  on  this  very  day  you  roasted  me,  and  to-day  you 
are  toasting  me,  and  I  very  much  prefer  the  toasting 
to  the  roasting,"  and  so  amid  smiles  and  laughter  peace 
was   restored  once  again. 

But  to  see  Robins  really  at  his  best  was  to  see  h,im 
amongst  his  beloved  soldiers.  So  popular,  indeed,  was 
he  with  the  men  of  the  Household  Cavalry  that  I  have 
no  hesitation  in  declaring  that  more  than  one  distin- 
guished colonel  and  adjutant  was  absolutely  down- 
right jealous  of  the  remarkable  influence  exercised  and 
the  afi"ection  inspired  by  the  soldiers'  Bishop  amongst 
the  ranks  of  the  men  they  commanded  ;  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  no  colonel  or  officer  was  ever  half  so  popular. 
I  well  remember  one  Christmas  Eve,  which  by  the  by 
fell  that  year  on  a  Sunday,  I  was  at  the  Rectory  as 
usual,  and  suddenly  towards  midnight  we  heard,  amidst 
the  hush  of  the  sleeping  town,  the  sound  of  a  distant 
drum,  and  then  nearer  and  clearer  it  came  till  we  realized 


i8o  THE   SOLDIERS'   BISHOP 

that  it  was  the  band  of  the  Royal  Horse  Guards,  who 
had  come  down  purposely,  accompanied  by  some  forty 
stalwart  troopers,  to  serenade  the  chaplain  and  his 
family.  Out  on  to  tlie  lawn  rushed  the  soldiers'  Bishop, 
and  holding  up  his  hand  for  silence  as  the  last  grand 
chords  rolled  out  upon  the  frosty  air,  he  said  :  "  Now, 
my  lads,  like  the  good  boys  you  are,  you  have  all  been 
partaking  of  things  spirhual  in  church  to-day  ;  now 
you  must  come  into  the  house,  every  jack  one  of  you, 
and  partake  of  things  spirit«ott5,  which  will  cheer  us  all 
up  at  this  hour  of  the  night."  And  in  the  whole  party 
trooped,  and  in  a  delightful  little  speech  Corporal- 
Major  Scott  proposed  the  health  of  the  man  "  we  all 
love  best  in  the  world,"  and  it  was  drunk  with  three 
times  three.  "  Ah,  my  lads  !  "  cried  Robins,  as  he 
rose  to  reply,  "  what  should  I  do  without  all  of  you? 
I  can  assure  you  I  sometimes  sit  in  that  chair  there, 
worn  out  with  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day  and  all 
the  worry  and  anxiety  of  a  big  parish.  But  do  you 
know  what  I  do  then?  Why,  whenever  I  am  cast  down 
and  depressed  I  get  up  and  go  for  a  walk  round  the 
barracks,  and  so  I  get  rid  of  the  blues  by  going  into 
the  Blues,  and  I  never  fail  to  leave  you  all  a  happier 
and  a  better  and  I  trust  a  more  useful  man  than  ever 
I    was   before." 

One  extraordinary  incident,  which  occurred  just 
before  the  death  of  this  remarkable  man,  on 
Christmas  Eve  1899,  and  I  have  done — that  is,  so 
far  as  the  Rev.  Arthur  Robins  is  concerned.  There 
never  was  a  man  more  fond  of  seeing  himself  in  print 
than  my  dear  old  friend  the  Rector  of  Holy  Trinity  ;  he 
simply  loved  it,  and  a  journalist,  especially  if  he  hailed 
from  London,  was  welcomed  more  as  though  he  were 
an  angel,  and  an  archangel  at  that,  than  an  ordinary 
human  being.     Well,  it  so  chanced  that  in  the  autumn 


THE   SOLDIERS'   BISHOP  i8i 

of  1899  Robins  became  much  annoyed  by  what  he 
considered  and  did  not  hesitate  to  stigmatize  as  the 
infernal  impudence  of  a  certain  famous  religious  sister- 
hood— the  Clewer  Sisters  to  wit — in  daring  to  take 
up  some  of  his  own  special  work  amongst  the  women 
and  children  of  the  non-commissioned  oiificers  of  the 
Royal  Guards  at  Windsor.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
dear  old  man  was  so  furious  because  he  devoted  if 
anything  too  much  rather  than  too  little  of  his  time 
to  this  special  department  of  his  work,  and  his  indigna- 
tion was  great  when,  as  he  expressed  it,  these  women, 
whose  proper  place  was  in  the  Vatican — "  although, 
Capper,  my  boy,"  he  added,  "  I  don't  deny  they  do  a 
lot  of  good," — when  they  took  to  visiting  his  own  special 
flock.  So  he  flew  to  his  beloved  papers  and  poured 
out  his  grief  in  the  columns  of  several  of  the  leading 
London  journals.  Indeed,  so  vigorous  was  he  in  the 
matter  that  he  did  not  confine  his  efforts  to  his 
epistolary  correspondence,  but  he  actually  had  ques- 
tions put  in  the  House  of  Commons  on  the  matter. 
At  last  one  day  there  appeared  in  the  columns  of  the 
Windsor  and  Etan  Express  a  letter  signed  by  the  Earl 
of  Longford,  one  of  the  officers  of  the  2nd  Life 
Guards,  vigorously  taking  the  part  of  the  Clewer  Sisters 
and  heartily  condemning  the  worthy  chaplain.  Well,  this 
naturally  distressed  the  Rector  very  much,  the  more 
especially  as  the  Windsor  and  Eton  Express  was 
quoted,  in  this  special  connection,  in  a  number  of  the 
leading  London  papers  on  the  following  day.  In  addi- 
tion to  this,  as  he  said  to  me,  the  Rector  couldn't  under- 
stand why  Lord  Longford  (whose  letter  I  reproduce  in 
facsimile)  should  of  all  people  think  fit  to  attack  him 
so  bitterly.  "  I  can't  make  head  or  tail  of  it.  Capper. 
Lord  Longford  is  a  great  friend  of  mine,  and  I  often 
stay  wdth  him,  and  between  you  and  me  he  has  never 


£10     REWARD 


The  above  Reward  will  be  paid  to  any  Verson  wlio  sliall  give  such  information 
Windsor  and  Eton   Express"    of  Saturday  last,  Septouiber  30t!i,  signed — "Longford, 
"Express"    Office,  Windsor. 
^      October  6th,  1899. 

^^,:^jz^   /^r-/L    ^u^^^  /ia^i^c^i^, 

/^uL^  a    ^c^Qy/^  yi^-^u^c^    ijt^cui^^^^ 

— tI^  -^^tX^  cL<:^ .^^^.c^^^-^^^-^  ^A^  _  ^Tt^Li^ 
yC^ Ci^^-^^jt^    c^c^^'    -;Ck^^-      ttC^ 

I'be  above  !e  r  fac  siruiU  of  the  Ut 


,tuj  shull  lead  to  the  identification  of  the  writer  of  the  letter  which  appeared  in    "  TiiK 
Capt."  ;    which  letter  has  eii;Ce  proved  to  be  a  Forgwy, 

F.  W.  OX  LEY, 

PROPRIETOn. 


l^/.i^dy^9' 


and  4.th  pages  of  the  Forged  letter. 


i84  THE   SOLDIERS'   BISHOP 

struck  me  as  being  such  a  wonderfully  religious  man, 
and  as  far  as  the  Clewer  Sisters  are  concerned,  why, 
I  would  have  sworn  he  had  never  even  heard  of  them 
in  his  whole  life.  But  upon  my  word,  in  these  days 
you  never  know  who  are  your  friends  and  who  are 
not  !  " 

The  following  day  was  Sunday,  and  as  he  walked 
into  the  vestry  the  Rector,  his  face  gleaming  with 
joy,  waved  a  paper  in  my  face.  **  I've  got  'em  now, 
Capper,"  he  said  ;  "  wait  till  I  get  up  into  the  pulpit." 
The  church  was  naturally  crammed,  as  Longford's  letter 
had  made  a  great  sensation,  and  every  one  was  anxious 
to  hear  what  the  good  parson  would  have  to  say  in 
reply,  or  whether  he  would  leave  it  altogether  un- 
touched. Springing  up  into  the  pulpit,  Robins,  before 
giving  out  his  text,  waved  a  letter  in  his  hands.  "  My 
dear  friends,  you  all  read  a  violent  attack  upon  me  by 
Lord  Longford  in  Friday's  Express.  What  will  you  say 
when  I  tell  you  that  Lord  Longford  never  wrote  such  a 
letter,  and  that  it  is  an  impudent  forgery?  "  And 
with  that  the  triumphant  Rector  passed  to  his  text 
and  to  his  sermon.  It  resulted  in  a  complete  routing: 
of  the  worthy  but  perhaps  somewhat  over-zealous  ladies 
of  Clewer.  Two  months  afterwards  my  dearly  loved 
and  ever  to  be  remembered  friend  Arthur  Robins,  on 
Christmas  Eve,  passed  in  a  moment  to  where  beyond 
these   voices   there    is    peace. 


CHAPTER    XV 

HOW   I    BROKE   UP   A   POLITICAL   MEETING 

I  DEARLY  loved  Windsor,  where  I  spent  seventeen  of 
the  happiest  years  of  my  life,  and  where  I  possessed 
friends  in  every  class  of  the  community.  Many  of  the 
old  inhabitants  were  so  full  of  stories  and  incidents 
in  connection  with  the  Royal  Borough  during  the  reign 
of  Queen  Victoria,  some  of  them,  indeed,  with  memories 
of  Windsor  in  the  reign  of  George  IV,  that  I  could  fill 
these  pages  with  stories  connected  with  the  Court  which 
I  heard  from  the  lips  of  officials,  many  of  whom 
belonged  to  the  popular  and  delightful  Constitutional 
Club,  which  was  open  to  all  classes  so  long  as  one  was 
a  good  Conservative.  Frankly,  I  have  never  pretended 
to  take  any  special  part  or  interest  in  politics,  but  I 
do  not  mind  confessing  that  my  personal  predilections 
have  always  been  on  the  Unionist  side,  though  I  am 
glad  to  say  that  fact  has  not  hindered  my  having  very 
good  and  true  friends  amongst  the  Radicals,  especially 
in  the  Royal  Borough. 

In  Town  Council  matters  I  have  always  considered 
it  absurd  that  politics  should  sway  or  take  precedence 
over  local  requirements,  but  I  am  bound  to  say  they 
certainly  did  so  in  Windsor,  and  it  was  a  great  compli- 
ment to  myself  when,  on  more  than  one  occasion,  I 
was  invited  by  both  parties  to  be  nominated  for  the 
Municipal    Chamber.       I    mention    this    particularly    as 

it  may  be  wondered  why  I  should,  towards  the  end  of 

185 


t86     how;  I  BROKE  UP  A  POLITICAL  MEETING 

my  stay  in  Windsor,  have  been  guilty  of  breaking  up 
a  political  meeting,  with,  let  me  say  straight  away, 
extraordinary  success,  and  which  was  the  cause  of  con- 
siderable excitement  and  much  amusement  for  many 
weeks.  The  only  reason  why  I  was  nev^er  nominated 
for  municipal  honours  was  because,  although  my  home 
was  in  Windsor  and  I  continually  slept  there,  yet  during 
the  winter  months  I  was  so  much  occupied  with  my 
professional  work  in  London  and  the  provinces  that 
I  should  not  have  had  the  time  to  attend  properly  to 
my  municipal  duties,  and  whatever  I  take  in  hand  I 
prefer  to  do  as  thoroughly  as  I  can.  Apart,  too,  from 
all  these  considerations,  I  infinitely  preferred  to  be 
a  kind  of  free  lance  in  local  affairs,  and  not  to  be  bound 
by  the  hard-and-fast  principles  of  any  special  party. 
I  was  on  the  committee  of  several  local  functions,  and 
I  have  assisted  in  organizing  many  meetings,  political 
or   otherwise. 

Now,  in  the  year  1908,  when  the  Licensing  Bill 
was  creating  so  much  discussion,  1  assisted  the  Con- 
servative Party  in  organizing  a  meeting  against  the 
Bill.  It  was  a  free  and  open  meeting  and  was  an 
enormous  success.  All  the  ratepayers  had  the  option 
of  attending.  The  Guildhall  was  crowded,  and  the 
motion  against  the  Bill  was  carried  by  an  enormous 
majority.  1  have  always  entertained  a  violent  dislike 
for  faddists  of  all  description,  being  honestly  and 
sincerely  convinced  that  they  almost  invariably  do  more 
harm  than  good,  however  praiseworthy  their  cause  may 
be  ;  and  the  political  faddist,  in  my  humble  opinion, 
is  the  worst  of  the  lot.  You  meet  them,  of  course,  in 
every  small  town,  and  somehow  or  another  the  teetotal 
faddist  runs  riot  everywhere.  In  Windsor  he  went 
mad  over  this  Licensing  Bill,  and  very  shortly  after 
our    great    meeting    against    the    Bill    these    fanatics 


HOW  I  BROKE  UP  A  POLITICAL  MEETING     187 

organized  another  meeting  in  support  of  it.  So  far, 
so  good.  They  were  perfectly  justified  in  their  action, 
and  they  announced  a  meeting  to  be  held  in  the  Guild- 
hall also,  doors  to  open  at  7.45  for  the  meeting  at 
8.15,  the  chair  to  be  taken  by  the  Rev.  Henry  Tower, 
Rector  of  Holy  Trinity,  Chaplain  to  the  Household 
Troops  and  successor  to  my  dear  old  friend  Arthur 
Robins.  Mr.  Tower  was  avowedly  a  Conservative,  but 
I  am  bound  to  add  he  was  a  most  terrific  teetotaler. 
Of  course,  this  was  quite  admirable  on  his  part,  but  the 
majority  of  his  congregation  being  absolutely  ferocious 
Conservatives,  they  were  naturally  speechless  with 
indignation  that  he  should  occupy  so  prominent  a 
position  in  a  meeting  organized  by  red-hot  Radicals, 
all  of  them  faddists  of  the  most  pronounced  type  and 
none  of  them  what  might  be  termed  as  very  popular 
with  the  general  community.  It  was  announced  in  big 
type  on  all  the  posters  that  admission  would  be  free, 
and  that  Mr.  Henry  Blacklock,  a  distinguished  barrister 
and  now  a  leading  K.C.,  would  be  present  and  would 
explain  the  tenets  of  the  famous  Bill. 

Two  days  before  the  meeting  I  was  informed,  to  my 
intense  disgust,  that,  as  the  fanatics  feared  there  might 
be  opposition,  the  promoters  of  the  meeting,  with  the 
sanction  of  Mr.  Tower,  had  arranged  for  tickets  to 
be  printed  and  circulated  at  all  the  dissenting  chapels, 
admitting  the  holders  to  the  meeting  at  seven  o'clock, 
half  an  hour  before  the  advertised  time  of  the  doors 
being  open  to  the  public.  Fortunately  I  heard  of 
this  disgustingly  mean  and  shabby  trick  on  the  Monday 
evening  ;  the  meeting  was  to  take  place  on  the 
Wednesday. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  "  thought  I  to  myself.  "  Two  can  play 
at  this  game."  So  off  I  rushed  to  London  on  Tuesday 
morning,    having   obtained   possession   of   one    of   these 


1 88     now  I  BROKE  UP  A  POLITICAL  MEETING 

early  admission  cards.  1  went  straight  to  a  printer 
I  knew  and  bade  him  let  me  have  five  hundred  exactly 
similar  tickets  to  take  back  to  Windsor  with  me  that 
very  night.  I  spent  the  whole  of  that  evening  and  the 
whole  of  Wednesday  morning  distributing  these  cards 
amongst  the  members  of  the  Conservative  Party,  and 
I  begged  and  implored  them  all  to  see  that  the  chairman 
and  all  supporting  him  should  be  hissed  and  hooted 
from  the  hall. 

The  news  of  these  "  forged  tickets  "  came  to  the 
ear  of  the  promoters  of  the  meeting  on  Wednesday 
afternoon  and  the  Mayor  was  approached  on  the 
subject.  He  declared  that  it  was  a  most  un-English 
action  on  the  part  of  the  brewers,  and  he  promised 
that  at  least  a  dozen  constables  should  be  in  attendance 
to  see  that  only  the  right  people  should  be  admitted. 
The  late  town  clerk,  Mr.  Lovegrove,  had  assured  me, 
in  reply  to  my  inquiries,  that  my  proposed  action 
involved  no  direct  breach  of  the  law,  but  that  my 
conduct  might  be  misconstrued,  and  that  as  a  rule 
people  who  attempted  these  practical  jokes  did  not 
often  bring  them  off  successfully.  But  I  on  my  part 
was  so  indignant  at  what  I  regarded  as  an  extremely 
mean  and  shabby  action  on  the  part  of  the  promoters 
of  the  meeting  that  I  considered  I  was  fully  justified 
in  thwarting  them  to  the  very  best  of  my  ability,  and 
so  I  not  only  issued  my  tickets  of  admission  right  and 
left,  but  I  specially  engaged  a  rival  barrister  to  comie 
down  and  explain  the  Bill  at  the  meeting  by  way  of 
antidote   to   Mr.    Blacklock. 

The  fatal  hour  arrived  ;  there  were  the  police  and 
there  were  my  five  hundred  ticket-holders,  in  addition 
to  the  genuine  ticket-holders,  and  there  were  many  other 
members  of  the  community  who  came  without  tickets, 
as   admission   was    free.      I    had   been    so   emphatic   in 


HOW  I  BROKE  UP  A  POLITICAL  IVIEETING     189 

my  advice  to  my  little  lot  to  turn  up  at  6.45  that 
directly  the  doors  were  opened  the  hall  was  filled  with 
the  Conservative  holders  of  tickets.  The  police  to 
a  man  possessed  the  most  delightful  sense  of  the  humour 
of  the  occasion,  and  as  they  were  all  of  them  bitterly, 
opposed  to  the  tenets  of  the  Bill  they  were  almost 
indecently  elated  at  the  success  of  my  little  ruse.  Some 
of  the  bogus  ticket-holders  were  composed  of  the  creme 
de  la  crime  of  the  Royal  Borough,  and  they  were 
saluted  with  great  empressement  by  the  constables, 
whilst  the  comparatively  unknown  chapel  ticket  people 
were  rather  ignominiously  told  to  keep  back  till  the 
others  had  taken  their  places — ^^and  that  was  where  the 
rub    came   in  :     their   places. 

At  least  four-fifths  of  the  audience  were  in  the 
deadliest  opposition  to  the  Bill,  but  of  course  the 
minority  were  able  to  make  a  certain  amount  of  noise, 
which  they  certainly  did.  The  chairman  and  his  sup- 
porters arrived  on  the  scene,  and  were  greeted  with 
groans  and  hisses  from  all  parts  of  the  Hall  ;  and 
the  rev.  chairman,  when  at  last  he  did  contrive  to  get 
in  a  word  edgeways,  declared  that  in  consequence  of 
the  disgraceful  action  of  the  brewers  of  the  town  he 
would  vacate  the  chair,  and  so  amid  a  perfect  storm 
of  booings  and  hissings  he  quitted  the  platform,  fol- 
lowed en  masse  by  his  fanatical  supporters.  Then 
the  fun  began  in  real  earnest.  Both  barristers,  feeling 
that  they  were  bound  to  do  something  in  return  for  the 
fees  they  had  been  promised,  rose  and  addressed  the 
meeting  simultaneously,  one  in  favour  of  and  one  against 
the  Bill.  One  town  councillor,  a  promoter  of  the 
meeting,  violently  accused  a  fellow-councillor  of  forging 
the  tickets,  and  then  ensued  a  wordy  battle  the  like 
of  which  had  never  been  heard  or  witnessed  in  the  Royal 
Borough  since  the  days  of  Sir  John  Falstaff.     At  last. 


I90     HOW  I  BROKE  UP  A  POLITICAL  MEETING 

one  man  having  apostrophized  the  other  as  an  umnen- 
tionable  liar,  a  fight  ensued,  which  lasted  for  several 
minutes,  amid  a  perfect  storm  of  joyous  cheers.  Pan- 
demonium reigned  supreme  in  the  historic  Town  Hall 
built  by  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  and  for  nearly  three 
hours  the  whole  place  seethed  in  excitement. 

One  well-known  resident  in  Windsor  told  me  after- 
wards that  he  had  witnessed  some  of  the  best  and  most 
famous  of  the  Palais  Royal  farces,  but  that  never  in 
all  his  born  days  had  he  been  present  at  such  a  wildly 
humorous  entertainment.  Many  people  were  in  abso- 
lute hysterics,  and  more  than  one  man  was  to  be 
witnessed  rolling  on  the  floor  in  an  agony  of  laughter. 
The  Rector,  on  his  return  home,  at  once  dispatched  a 
letter  to  the  local  paper,  which  duly  appeared  the 
following  evening,  in  which  he  solemnly  declared  that 
although  a  lifelong  Conservative,  yet  in  consequence 
of  the  behaviour  of  the  brewers  he  would  always  for 
the  future  vote  with  the  Radical   Party. 

I  purposely  kept  away  from  the  meeting,  but  that 
night  I  publicly  announced  in  the  club  that  I  and  I 
alone  was  responsible  for  the  whole  thing,  and  I  wished 
the  whole  town  to  know  this  fact.  I  was  particularly 
emphatic  on  this  point,  as  on  the  following  morning 
I  was  leaving  by  an  early  train  for  a  month's  tour  in 
the  Italian  lakes. 

The  following  morning  all  the  Royal  Borough  knew 
that  I  had  acknowledged  that  I  was  responsible  for  this 
very  rowdy  meeting,  but  the  fun  of  the  whole  thing 
was   by   no   means   over. 

The  news  reached  me  in  Italy  that  on  the  morning 
following  the  meeting  a  certain  dissenting  minister 
applied  at  the  police-court  for  a  warrant  for  my  arrest 
on  a  charge  of  having  forged  the  bogus  tickets,  but 
alas  1     poor   man,   greatly    to    his    chagrin,    his    amiable 


HOW,  I  BROKE  UP  A  POLITICAL  MEETING     191 

little  request  was  not  granted.  In  the  report  in  the 
local  papers  one  of  the  promoters  who  was  present  at 
the  meeting  declared  that  the  whole  thing  had  been 
engineered  at  the  Constitutional  Club  ;  of  which  club 
most  of  the  magistrates  were  sturdy  adherents,  and  they 
strongly  resented  the  imputation.  Then  the  Rector's 
letter  appeared  in  the  Press,  and  the  following  week 
came  one  signed  by  all  the  brewers  disclaiming  all 
knowledge  of  or  hand  in  the  matter. 

Then  at  the  Town  Council  meeting  a  fortnight  later 
there  ensued  a  fearful  discussion  between  the  two 
quarrelsome  councillors  who  had  fought  at  the  famous 
meeting,  each  demanding  an  apology  from  the  other  ; 
the  discussion  lasted  for  nearly  two  hours  and  was 
brought  to  a  termination  by  a  speech  which  I  here 
reprint  from  the  Windsor  and  Eton  Express. 

The  speech  was  made  by  Mr.  Councillor  Ryland  and 
he  said  : — 

They  [the  Council]  were  asked  to  censure  one  of  their  members, 
but  they  must  be  satisfied  that  he  deserved  censure.  There  was 
not  a  man  or  woman  in  the  town  but  would  agree  with  him  that 
more  disgraceful  proceedings  never  took  place  in  Windsor  within 
his  recollection  within  the  last  ten  years.  Mr.  Suckling  said  Mr. 
Alfred  Capper  went  and  paid  for  the  forged  tickets.  Let  Mr. 
Capper  ever  dare  to  hold  a  vieeting  of  his  own  at  the  Albert  Institute 
for  profit,  and  let  him  see  what  would  take  place.  He  threw  that 
out  as  a  challenge.  .  .  .  He  only  regretted  Mr.  Capper's  name 
was  not  on  the  resolution.  Mr.  Capper  had  been  a  friend  of  his 
until  this.  Every  man  in  the  Council,  friend  or  foe,  would 
condemn  him  if  his  name  were  in  the  resolution  instead  of  Mr. 
Atkins'. 

Now  Mr.  Ryland,  who  was  a  very  clever  lawyer  in 
the  town,  had  hitherto  taken  no  active  part  in  the  affair, 
and  although  a  pronounced  Radical,  yet  I  well  knew  he 
entertained  no  very  high  opinion  of  some  of  the  pro- 
nounced faddists  of  his  party.      He  and  I   had  always 


192     HOW  I  BROKE  UP  A  POLITICAL  MEETING 

been  great  friends,  and  when  I  read  his  speech  I  was  not 
unnaturally  extremely  indignant  that  he  should  make 
such  a  statement  about  myself,  although  his  threat 
greatly  amused  me.  In  his  challenge  to  me  1  at  once 
discerned  an  opportunity  for  another  gorgeous  entertain- 
ment— at   his   expense  1 

I  may  mention  here  that  during  the  whole  of  my  seven- 
teen years'  residence  in  Windsor  it  had  been  my  habit 
to  give  an  annual  entertainment  at  the  Royal  Albert 
Institute,  at  which  I  was  assisted  by  some  of  the  most 
famous  singers  and  actors  and  entertainers  of  the  day, 
as  will  be  seen  from  the  following  list  of  distinguished 
names  :  Charles  Hawtrey,  Arthur  Bourchier  and  Violet 
Vanbrugh,  Lady  Tree,  Max  O'Rell,  George  Grossmith 
(sen.  and  jun.),  Rutland  Barrington,  Cecilia  Loftus, 
Seymour  Hicks  and  Ellaline  Terriss,  Maude  Millett,  Dr. 
Houston  Collisson,  Percy  French,  Mrs.  Brown -Potter, 
Hayden  Coffin,  Tivadar  Nachez,  Victor  Marmont,  Charles 
Bertram,  Arthur  Helmore,  Frederic  Upton,  Fred 
Chester,  Percy  Wadham,  Marie  Studholme,  Decima 
Moore,  Eva  Moore,  Lawrence  Kellie,  Hermann  Vezin, 
Harry  Trevor,  H.  Tennent,  Connie  Ediss,  Letty  Lind, 
Maurice  Farkoa,  Jean  Aylwin,  Leo  Trevor,  Charles 
Capper,  H.  G.  Pelissier  ("The  Follies"),  Phyllis 
Dare,  Margaret  Cooper,  Lord  Rosslyn,  Dr.  Byrd  Page, 
Iris  Hoey,  Arthur  Roberts,  Nelly  Ganthony,  Reginald 
Somerville,  Vernon  Warner,  Clarice  Mayne,  Herbert 
Collings,  Edward  Victor,  Leonard  Carrodus,  Basil 
Hallam,  Harrison  Hill,  Gordon  Goodyer,  Vane  Feather- 
stone,  Lottie  Venne,  Helen  Mar,  Barclay  Gammon,  etc. 

When  I  read  the  report  of  the  Town  Council  meetings 
in  my  Italian  retreat  I  began  to  realize  that  it  was 
quite  possible  some  of  my  friends  in  Windsor  might  not 
quite  understand  all  the  motives  that  lay  beneath  my 
action  in  regard  to  the  bogus  tickets,  and  so  I   sent  tQ 


HOW  I  BROKE  UP  A  POLITICAL  MEETING     193 

the  paper  the  following  letter,  in  which  it  will  be  seen 
that  I  gladly  accepted  the  challenge  made  me  by  Mr. 
Ryland  : — 

THE    LICENSING   BILL   MEETING. 

Mr  Alfred  Capper  Defends  his  Conduct  and  Accepts 
Mr.  Ryland's  Challenge. 

To  the  Editor  of  the  Windsor  and  Eton  Express. 

Sir, — When  one  is  abroad  it  is  always  delightful  to  read  the 
doings  and  sayings  of  one's  friends,  and  the  contents  of  recent 
copies  of  your  excellent  paper  which  have  each  week  reached  me  in 
this  beautiful  part  of  the  world  have  caused  me  much  amusement 
and  interest,  and  especially  the  remarks  in  connection  with  the 
recent  fiasco  at  the  Guildhall ;  and  as  my  name  has  been  pro 
minently  mentioned,  both  at  the  Police  Court  and  at  the  last  Town 
Council  meeting,  you  must  kindly  allow  me  to  say  a  few  words 
in  self-defence. 

England  is  a  free  country,  and  we  are  all  entitled  to  our  opinions ; 
and  whereas  those  who  convened  the  meeting  are  perfectly  justified 
in  believing  in  the  Bill — and  they  are  all  gentlemen  for  whom  I 
have  great  regard  and  respect — yet  my  own  humble  belief  is  that 
it  is  a  Bill  which  can  do  no  good  to  temperance;  that  it  is  most 
unfair  and  unjust,  and  is  nothing  more  than  an  insult  to  what  is 
termed  the  "Trade."  The  meeting  was  announced  to  be  a  public 
one,  doors  to  open  at  7.45.  Yet  the  promoters  considered  it 
necessary  to  issue  tickets  privately  to  their  own  supporters  to  admit 
them  at  7.15.  Obviously  it  was  their  intention  to  keep  out 
opponents  and  fill  the  Hall  before  the  advertised  time.  From  my 
point  of  view  this  was  not  "  playing  the  game  "  properly,  and  was 
thoroughly  un-English ;  and  I'm  proud  to  say  that  on  my  own 
initiative  I  had  similar  admission  tickets  printed  and  circulated. 
I  made  no  secret  whatever  of  the  matter.  The  "plot"  did  not 
emanate  from  the  Constitutional  Club,  nor  did  the  much-abused 
"Trade"  have  any  hand  in  the  matter.  In  the  words  of  the 
immortal  bard,  "  Alone  I  did  it,"  and,  strange  as  it  may  appear  to 
some,  I'm  not  a  little  bit  ashamed  of  my  conduct.  I  am  also 
entitled  to  another  opinion,  viz.  that  parsons  ought  not  to  meddle 
in  politics ;  but  this  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  case  in  point  and 
was  not  in  my  mind  at  all  when  tickets  were  issued,  because  I  am 
well  aware  what  a  great  deal  of  good  the  Rector  of  Holy  Trinity  has 
done  in  the  cause  of  temperance. 

14 


194     HOW  I  BROKE  UP  A  POLITICAL  MEETING 

It  may  be  imagined  how  terribly  wounded  my  feelings  are  when 
my  old  and  valued  friend  Mr.  Ryland  stigmatizes  my  behaviour 
as  disgraceful ;  and  at  the  last  Town  Council  meeting  he  is 
reported  to  have  said,  "  Let  Mr.  Capper  ever  dare  to  hold  a  meeting 
of  his  own  at  the  Albert  Institute  for  profit,  and  let  him  see  what 
zvould  take  place.  He  threw  that  out  as  a  challenge."  Well,  I  do 
intend  to  hold  a  meeting  for  profit  during  the  coming  winter.  I  will 
let  Mr.  Ryland  know  the  date,  and  I  am  willing  to  devote  the  whole 
proceeds  to  the  new  infirmary  if  Mr.  Ryland  succeeds  in  breaking 
up  that  meeting,  and  he  will,  I  hope,  agree  to  hand  over  to  the 
same  fund  at  least  ;;^io  if  he  fails. 

I  expect  to  be  home  at  end  of  coming  week,  and  shall  look 
forward   with  pleasure  to   seeing  all  my  Windsor  friends  or  foes. 

Yours  truly, 

Alfred  Capper. 

Lugano,  May  i8th,  1908. 

Later  on  in  the  year  I  duly  "  held  "  the  entertainment 
at  the  Albert  Institute.  I  secured  the  patronage  of 
Prince  and  Princess  Christian  and  the  Mayor  of 
Windsor,  etc.,  and  Miss  Margaret  Cooper,  Mr.  Maurice 
Farkoa,  Mr.  Barclay  Gammon,  and  others  participated 
in  the  performance.  The  Hall  was  crowded  with  well- 
known  residents  of  the  town  and  neighbourhood  (some 
travelling  miles  to  be  present),  and  I  had  quite  an 
ovation  when  I   appeared  on  the  platform. 

The  following  letter  will  show  that  I  had  one  more 
"  go  "  at  Mr.  Ryland— this  time  through  his  Worship 
the  Mayor  : — 

Copy    of    Letter    addressed    to   the    Mayor    of    Windsor, 
E.  Bampfylde,  Esq.,  by  Mr.  Alfred  Capper. 

Oxford  Mansions, 

Oxford  Circus,  W. 

October  14,  1908. 
Dear  Mr.  Mj\yor, 

You  are  probably  aware  that  at  a  meeting  of  the  Town 
Council  some  five  months  ago  a  deliberate  threat  was  made  to 
prevent  my  ever  holding  another  entertainment  in  Windsor.  The 
exact  words  of  a  prominent  member,   you   may  remember,  were  : 


HOW  I  BROKE  UP  A  POLITICAL  MEETING      195 

"  Let  Mr.  Capper  ever  dare  to  hold  another  meeting  at  the  Albert 
Institute  for  profit,  and  let  him  see  what  would  take  place.  He 
threw  this  out  as  a  challenge. ^^ 

I  should  not  be  apprehensive  as  regards  this  challenge  did  I  not 
know  that  the  gentleman  who  made  it  is  one  who  would  not  make 
such  a  statement  unless  he  meant  to  carry  it  out  to  the  full,  and 
knowing  this,  I  on  my  part  have  made  arrangements  for  thoroughly 
resisting  and  defeating  his  attempt. 

I  cannot  therefore  be  held  responsible  for  an  infringement  of  the 
public  peace,  and  I  must  ask  you  as  Chief  Magistrate  of  the  Royal 
Borough,  in  the  interests  of  law  and  order,  to  extend  to  my 
numerous  Royal  and  distinguished  Patrons  the  same  protection 
you  extended  to  the  ticket-holders  at  the  late  Licensing  Bill 
meeting.  A  large  number  of  police  will  perhaps  be  advisable,  as 
my  entertainment  on  Thursday  afternoon  of  next  week,  judging  by 
the  many  letters  I  have  received,  is  certain  to  be  very  largely 
attended,  and  many  of  my  old  friends  and  patrons,  in  anticipation 
of  a  disturbance,  have  written  to  say  they  are  coming  specially  to 
support  me. 

I  am  asking  for  your  kind  co-operation  with  the  full  assurance 
of  your  support,  as  you  have  already  most  kindly  and  courteously 
extended  your  own  patronage  to  the  performance. 

Yours  faithfully, 

Alfred  Capper. 

This  ends  my  story.  Rylaiid  threw  out  a  challenge 
which,  when  I  accepted  it,  he  never  ventured  to  put  into 
practice.  Throughout  the  whole  of  this  queer  affair 
I  was  actuated  by  no  mean  spite  or  unworthy  motive. 
Had  the  promoters  of  the  great  meeting  behaved  with 
the  most  ordinary  decency  they  could  have  carried 
through  their  meeting  in  peace  ;  but  I  was  so  infuriated 
and  so  righteously  indignant  at  the  very  underhand  trick 
to  which  they  had  lent  themselves,  that,  in  the  interests 
of  honour  and  decency  and  fair  play,  I  determined  to 
teach  them  a  lesson — and  I  did.  I  may  say  that  of  all 
the  numerous  entertainments  which  I  had  given  to 
Windsor,  I  never  gave  one  which  so  absolutely  and 
entirely  "  filled  the  Bill,"  so  to  speak.  It  Avas  far  and 
away  the  best  show  of  its  own  kind  or  of  any  kind  that 


196    HOW  I  BROKE  UP  A  POLITICAL  MEETING 

the  Royal  Borough  had  ever  seen,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
fact  that  it  "was  free,  gratis,  and  for  nothing.  And  of 
my  two  "  stars  "  on  that  gorgeous  occasion  I  can  never 
speak  or  even  think  without  gratitude  and  emotion. 
Nobly  indeed  did  the  Rev.  Henry  Tower  and  Town 
Councillor  Rylands  rise  to  that  sublime  occasion  ! 
Windsor's  sides  have  scarcely  ceased  to  shake  even  now, 
and  frequently  enough  in  the  silent  watches  of  the  night 
1  wake  to  laugh  the  whole  splendid  night  over  again. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

A   GLIMPSE   OF   DR.   JOSEPH   PARKER   AND 
FATHER   BERNARD  VAUGHAN 

I  HAD  the  pleasure  of  meeting  the  famous  Dr.  Joseph 
Parker,  the  popular  minister  of  the  City  Temple,  on  many- 
occasions,  and  though  I  cannot  claim  him  as  having 
been  an  intimate  friend  of  mine,  I  can  truthfully  say 
he  was  an  acquaintance  of  whom  I  was  always  proud 
and  who  never  failed  to  interest  and  amuse  me  when- 
ever I  met  him.  He  was  a  type  of  dissenting  minister 
peculiarly  his  own.  If  he  was  not  as  deeply  spiritual 
as  some  of  the  older-fashioned  men  of  the  early  nine- 
teenth century,  or  so  passionately  visionary  in  his  views 
and  methods  as  such  a  man  as  the  late  Hugh  Price 
Hughes,  he  was  not,  at  all  events,  so  offensively 
political  as  many  of  the  present-day  type  of  Noncon- 
formist minister,  particularly  amongst  the  Congrega- 
tionalists  and  Baptists,  are  only  too  apt  to  be.  But  he 
was  a  loyal  Liberal,  with  tremendous  leanings  towards 
Imperialism,  ultra-patriotism,  and  possessed  of  a 
veneration  for  Queen  Victoria  that  wellnigh  bordered 
on  idolatry.  And  Dr.  Parker  was  a  broad-minded 
man.  He  didn't  regard  me  or  any  one  else  with  a 
suspicious  eye  because  I  was  an  advanced  Tory  and 
a  very  decided  Anglican  Churchman  ;  truth  to  tell, 
and   strictly   between   ourselves,    I    think   he    liked   me 

all    the   better    for    my    views — religious    and    political. 

197 


198  DR.  PARKER  AND  FATHER  VAUGHAN 

"  To  every  man  his  due  "  was  Parker's  motto  ;  "let 
each  one  live  his  own  life,"  and  he  never  feared  either 
his  ministerial  brethren  or  his  deacons.  He  was 
always  master  in  his  own  church,  and  he  was  content 
that  others  should  be  masters  in  theirs--if  they  could. 
I  remember  that  on  the  occasion  of  his  famous 
encyclical  to  the  Pope,  whom  he  very  properly 
addressed  as  "  Holy  Father,"  his  saying  to  me,  when 
a  burst  of  Nonconformist  indignation  rained  down 
upon  him  at  his  daring  so  to  address  a  mortal  man  : 
"  I  don't  see.  Capper,  why  because  I  am  a  Congrega- 
tional minister  I  shouldn't  also  try  to  be  a  gentleman. 
His  Holiness  is  the  head  of  the  greatest  and  oldest 
Church  in  the  world,  say  what  we  will,  and  in  addition 
he  is  also  a  Sovereign.  Who  am  I  that  I  should 
presume  to  refuse  him  his  proper  title?  "  And  the 
sturdy  old  warrior  was  quite  right,  and  1  loved  him 
for  saying  it.  Of  course,  he  was  an  eccentric— that 
is,  he  was  different  from  the  ordinary  run  of  people  ; 
almost  all  great  men  are,  otherwise  they  wouldn't  be 
great  ;  and,  mind  you,  I  differentiate  between  eccen- 
tricity that  is  assumed,  affected,  put  on  for  the  occa- 
sion, and  which  has  no  substance  at  the  back  of  it, 
and  the  eccentricity  which  is  so  often  the  unforced,, 
spontaneous,  absolutely  natural  eccentricity  of  genius, 
which  is  so  intent  on  the  work  it  has  in  hand  that  it 
neither  reflects  on  the  outside  world  nor  cares  a  button- 
top  what  that  world  may  think*.  Joseph  Parker  was 
eccentric,  but  he  had  a  lot  of  real,  solid  genius  behind 
all  his  eccentricity— his  sermons  and  that  wonderful 
commentary  of  his  upon  the  Psalms  would  prove  that, 
if  nothing  else  did.  1  remember  there  was  one  startling 
piece  of  eccentricity  of  his  which  came  like  a  thunder- 
clap on  London,  and  which  I  frankly  say  I  didn't 
like  myself,  but  I  honestly  believe  it  was  a  passionate 


DR.  PARKER  AND  FATHER  VAUGHAN   199 

burst  of  indignation  to  which  the  old  man  could  not 
help  giving  vent.  I  don't  think  it  was  meant  for 
sensation  or  to  shock  or  wound  people  needlessly  ;  it 
was  just  spontaneous  and  irrepressible.  I  refer  to  that 
famous  sermon  at  a  great  political  crisis  which  he 
prefaced  with  the  words,   "  God  damn  the   Sultan  !  " 

I  used  sometimes  to  run  into  the  City  Temple  on 
the  occasion  of  the  Thursday  midday  services  to  listen 
to  the  eloquent  Doctor,  for  you  were  always  sure  of 
something  out  of  the  common  run — something  that 
made  you  think.  Now  it  so  chanced  that  on  the 
very  night  Queen  Victoria  died  I  had  wandered  into 
the  old  theatre  at  Windsor,  where  I  spent  many  years 
of  my  life,  and  I  settled  down  to  watch  the  panto- 
mime that  was  just  playing  its  last  evenings.  .We 
were  all  naturally  very  sad.  Just  before  the  curtain 
went  up  the  manager  came  forward  and  very  properly 
announced  that,  owing  to  the  very  serious  news  from 
Osborne,  he  would  like  all  the  people  to  stand  up 
and  join  with  the  members  of  the  company  in  singingi 
"  God  Save  the  Queen,"  and  he  feared  it  would  be 
for  the  very  last  time  in  their  lives,  as  the  news  of 
Her  Majesty's  condition  was  of  the  gravest.  Imme- 
diately afterwards  the  curtain  went  up  and  discovered 
the  company,  in  all  their  gilt  and  glitter  and  purple 
and  red  and  gold,  singing  with  all  their  might,  for 
the  last  time  in  their  lives,  the  National  Anthem  in 
honour  of  Queen  Victoria.  It  was  one  of  the  most 
impressive  moments  of  my  life,  and  my  mind  wandered 
back  to  the  occasion  when,  more  than  sixty  years 
before,  it  had  been  sung  for  the  first  time  in  the  Royal 
borough  on  the  accession  to  the  throne  in  1837  of 
the  dainty  young  Queen^  who  came  like  a  fairy  after 
a  succession  of  stodgy  Georgian  kin,gs,  and  then  I 
thought  of  the  innumerable  romantic  occasions  all  over 


200  DR.  PARKER  AND  FATHER  VAUGHAN 

our  far-flung  Empire  on  which  that  same  anthem  had 
been  sung  in  honour  of  the  woman  who  now  lay  at 
her  last  gasp.  Our  soldiers  had  sung  it  in  the 
Crimea,  and  British  women  and  children  had  con- 
fronted the  Indian  mutineers  with  that  noble  anthem 
on  their  lips  but  a  few  moments  before  they  had 
been  done  to  death.  I  reflected  how  those  sonorous 
strains  ushered  in  the  day's  work  on  a  hundred  battle- 
ships scattered  in  almost  every  port  the  world  over, 
and  here  we  were  singing  it  for  the  very  last  time, 
as  indeed  we  knew  in  that  little  theatre  before  the 
evening  was  fully   spent. 

Well,  on  the  following  Thursday,  knowing  well  that 
Dr.  Parker  would  have  much  to  say  upon  an  event 
fraught  with  so  much  historical  and  sentimental  mean- 
ing to  England  and  the  Empire,  I  betook  myself 
betimes  to  the  City  Temple.  I  was  not  mistaken.  I 
don't  remember  the  exact  text,  but  the  purport  of  the 
sermon  remains  vividly  in  my  memory. 

'*  The  great  Queen  is  dead,  and  King  Edward  comes 
to  his  own.  King  Edward  is  a,  man  with  a  past  ; 
but,  my  brethren,  what  ma,n  is  there  here  who  if  he 
had  been  in  the  King's  place  and  had  had  the  oppor- 
tunities and  ha,d  been  confronted  with  the  temptations 
with  which  King  Edward  has  been  confronted  for  nearly 
sixty  years  bat  would  not  have  had  a  far  more  lurid  past 
than  his  behind  him.  But  King  Edward  is  a  man 
with  a  future,  and  I  venture  to  say  that  that  future 
will  be  a  very  brilliant  one.  For  he  is  a  man,  every 
inch  of  him,  in  the  highest  and  noblest  sense  of  the 
word."  And  then  followed  a  vigorous  afid  eloquent 
sermon,  which  Dr.  Parker  concluded  by  saying  :  "  Now 
we  will  all  stand  up  and  sing  for  the  first  time,  and 
probably  we  a,re  the  first  and  only  congregation  in 
the  Empire  who  are  singing  the  National  Anthem  at 


DR.  PARKER  AND  FATHER  VAUGHAN  20i 

the  very  outset  of  the  new  reigTi.  The  Queen  is  dead 
— long  live  the  King  1  And  now  altogether  and  with 
heart  and  voice  let  us  sing  '  God  Save  the  King.'  " 
And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  withui  a  few  hours  I  sang 
the  National  Anthem  for  the  last  time  in  honour  of 
our  beloved  Queen  and  for  the  first  time  in  honour  of 
her  illustrious  son.  As  I  sang  I  could  not  help 
thinking  of  the  thousands  of  men  and  women  who 
would  sing  it  all  over  the  Empire  in  honour  of  the 
King  in  the  days  that  were  yet  to  come  ! 

Two  more  sermons  of  Dr.  Parker's  live  in  my 
memory  to-day.  They  were  the  first  sermons  he 
preached  immediately  after  his  wife's  death.  Now, 
as  is  well  known,  Dr.  Parker  was  devotedly  attached 
to  his  wife,  who,  I  may  remark,  always  led  the  sing- 
ing from  her  seat  in  the  gajlery,  which  on  the  occa- 
sions to  which  I  refer  remained  solemnly  and  sacredly 
unoccupied.  It  is  my  firm  belief  that  had  Mrs.  Parker 
not  died  Joseph  Parker  would  have  been  alive  to- 
day. Her  death  sounded  his  death-knell,  and  he  was 
never  the  same  man  again.  On  the  evening  of  the 
day  on  which  she  was  buried  it  was  announced  in  the 
evening  papers  that,  despite  the  fact  of  Mrs.  Parker's 
death  and  funeral  that  day.  Dr.  Parker  would,  as  usual, 
conduct  the  week-day  service  the  following  day,  which 
happened  to  be  Thursday. 

The  Temple  was  crowded  from  end  to  end,  and  there 
was  not  one  vacant  seat,  except  that  seat  which  for 
years  had  been  occupied  by  his  beloved  wife.  After 
the  usual  preliminaries,  Dr.  Parker  ascended  the  pulpit 
and  announced  that  there  would  be  a  collection  at  the 
end  of  the  service — "  a  collection  of  sympathy  for  me, 
the  sorrowing  husband,"  declared  the  illustrious 
widower.  He  then  delivered  a  magnificent  oration  on 
death — death    which    is    the     end    of    all    things  ;    it 


202  DR.  PARKER  AND  FATHER  VAUGHAN 

was  a  wail  of  despair  from  the  first  word  to  the  last. 
Death  ended  everything.  It  was  a  hideous  catastrophe  1 
And  so  on,  and  so  on,  ad  infinitum.  At  the  conclusion 
of  his  sermon  the  preacher  added  :  "  Every  single 
word  of  this  sermon  has  been  taken  down  by  a  short- 
hand writer  in  the  church,  and  it  may  be  purchased 
in  a  day  or  two  for  twopence  per  copy.  We  will  now 
sing  a  hymn  and  conclude  with  the  Doxology,  as  usual. 
At  least,  nearly  as  usual  ;  with  this  difference,  however: 
you  shall  sing  the  Doxology,  I  shall  remain  silent, 
for  how  can  I  sing  the  Lord's  song  in  a  strange  land, 
in  a  land  which  has  been  made  as  dark  as  pitch  to 
me  by  the  death  of  this  dear  wife  of  mine?  I  stand 
here  almost  as  an  atheist  to-day.  How  can  1  *  praise 
God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow  '  when  there  is 
sorrow  and  anger  and  bitterness  in  my  heart?  Nay, 
rather  with  Job's  friends  I  could  almost  rather  curse 
God  and  die  !  But  perchance  God  may  open  my  eyes 
and  I  may  behold  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  once 
again." 

Accordingly,  we  the  audience  sang  the  Doxology 
alone,  whilst  Dr.  Parker,  in  his  black  govm,  with  a 
face  that  was  almost  as  black  as  his  gown,  stood  in 
grim  and  forbidding  silence. 

On  the  following  Thursday  the  Doctor  ascended  the 
pulpit,  and  it  was  speedily  manifest  to  all  present  that 
the  sun  did  shine  once  more.  Having  announced  that 
the  collection  would  once  again  be  one  of  sympathy 
for  the  sorrowing  pastor.  Dr.  Parker  gave  out  his 
text,  "  And  his  eyes  were  opened  "  ;  and  he  preached 
a  splendid  and  inspiring  discourse  on  Death  as  the 
beginning  of  a  new  and  glorious  life.  "  Death  ! 
he  cried.  "  There  ought  to  be  no  such  hideous  and 
ridiculous  and  unmeaning  word  in  the  dictionary  ! 
Death  is  the  most  'beautiful  and  the  most  blessed  thing 


DR.  PARKER  AND  FATHER  VAUGHAN   203 

we  have  in  life.  Who  would  live  here  for  ever?  Who 
would  want  to?  Who  would  desire  that  his  loved 
ones  should  go  on  for  ever  in  this  gloomy  old  world?  " 
And  so  to  the  end  of  a  joyous  and  a  triumphant  paean 
on  the  inevitable  destiny  of  all  humanity,  of  all 
creation.  "  The  flowers  die  to  live  again,  and  our 
loved  ones  blossom  once  again  in  a  world  of  beauty 
of  which  we  have  not  the  very  slightest  comprehen- 
sion. Every  word  of  this  sermon  has  been  taken  down 
by  a  shorthand  writer  in  the  church,  and  can  be  pur- 
chased in  a  few  days  for  twopence  per  copy.  Now 
we  will  sing  a  hymn  and  then,  as  usual,  we  will  sing 
the  Doxology,  in  which  to-day  1  will  lead  you  myself, 
for  in  very  truth  God  has  opened  my  eyes  and  I  have 
found  indeed  that  God  is  a  God  from  whom  all 
blessings   flow." 

Dr.  Parker  has  gone,  but  what  a  landmark  he  was  ! 
How  he  attracted  all  and  sundry  to  his  wonderful 
preaching  !  I  well  remember  once  talking  about 
preachers  to  Father  Stanton  and  asking  him  who  was 
his  favourite  preacher. 

"  Oh,"  he  replied,  "  I  often  sit  under  Joe  Parker 
on  Thursday  mornings,  and  I  never  miss  him  if  I  can 
help  it." 

I  also  remember  Dr.  Parker  showing  me  a  very 
beautiful  Bible  once.  "  There,"  said  he,  with  pride 
and  affection  glowing  from  his  massive  and  ingenuous 
countenance — for  with  all  his  worldly  knowledge  and 
business  acumen  and  despite  all  his  wonderful  popu- 
larity he  was  really  as  simple-hearted  as  a  little  child 
— "  there,  that  Bible  was  sent  me  the  other  day  by 
Canon  Scott  Holland,  who  is  one  of  my  most 
frequent  hearers  at  the  Thursday  services  at  the 
Temple." 

There    have    always    been    most    friendly    relations 


204  DK.  PARKER  AND  FATHER  VAUGHAN 

between  the  City  Temple  and  the  High  Church  Party 
in  London,  and  I  well  remember  how  delighted  and 
impressed  I  was  when  I  accompanied  Father  Adderley 
to  dear  Father  Stanton's  funeral,  catching  a  glimpse 
of  the  pale,  ascetic  face  and  flowing  white  locks  of 
Mr.  R.  J.  Campbell,  the  present  pastor  of  the  Temple, 
as  he  sorrowfully  gazed  down  upon  the  coffin  that  hid 
from  view  all  that  remained  of  the  famous  ritualistic 
clergyman.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  there  is  often 
much  greater  love  and  sympathy  and  comprehension, 
social,  religious,  and  political,  between  Dissenters  and 
the  advanced  Anglican  than  there  is  between  the 
ordinary  High  and  Low  Church  clergymen. 

One  of  the  most  pleasant  evenings  in  my  life  was 
when  I  gave  my  entertainment  in  the  Lecture  Hall 
of  the  City  Temple,  when  Dr.  Parker  himself  presided 
and  was  very  enthusiastic  over  my  performance,  during 
which  he  thrice  acted  as  my  medium  and  with  a  force 
and  vigour  and  energy  which  pretty  well  carried 
me  off  my  legs  and  which  delighted  the  enormous 
audience. 

I  have  had  a  great  deal  to  do  at  one  time  and  another 
with  the  three  principal  British  Jesuit  colleges — 
Beaumont  and  Stonyhurst  in  England  and  Clongowes 
Wood  College  in  Ireland,  and  my  admiration  for  the 
Jesuit  priests  is  practically  unlimited,  though  1  am  well 
aware  that  there  are  many  good  people  who  can  see 
nothing  but  evil  in  them^  who  regard  them  as  in- 
quisitors and  torturers  of  the  British  nation  in  passe 
and  who  holid  that  a  Jesuit  is  a  casuistical  being  who 
is  ever  engaged  in  the  most  hideous  evil  under  the 
panoply  of  working  that  good  may  come  of  it.  This 
is  rubbish,  and  is  confined,  of  course,  nowadays  to  a 
very  limited  section  of  the  public,  though  in  my  young 
days  such  an  opinion  of  Roman  Catholicism  in  general 


DR.  PARKER  AND  FATHER  VAUGHAN   205 

and  of  the  Jesuits  in  particular  was  the  rule  rather 
than  the  exception.  To-day  it  still  lingers  on  in  cer- 
tain very  innocent  and  unsophisticated  circles,  though 
it  has  long  died  out  in  society  generally.  The  English 
Jesuit  priest,  as  an  almost  invariable  rule,  is  a  gentle- 
man, a  scholar,  a  patriot,  and  the  most  intensely  English 
person  on  earth.  He  is,  for  instance,  far  more  British 
and  fervently  patriotic  than,  let  us  say.  Dr.  Clifford 
or  Mr.  Ramsay  Macdonald.  And  one  of  the  most 
typical,  as  he  certainly  is  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
and  by  far  the  most  popular,  of  English  Jesuits  is 
Father  Bernard  Vaughan.  In  some  respects  Father 
Vaughan  resembles  Dr.  Parker,  of  whom  I  have  just 
written,  with  this  notable  difference,  that  the  one  is 
a  gentleman,  the  other,  in  the  ordinary  accepted  society 
meaning  of  the  word,  was  not.  Father  Vaughan  is 
the  eleventh  of  a  family  of  fourteen.  He  comes 
from  one  of  the  oldest  Catholic  stock  in  the  country, 
and  from  before  the  Conquest  the  family  has  been 
loyal  to  the  Old  Religion.  But  Father  Vaughan  is  as 
downright  as  ever  was  Dr.  Parker,  sometimes  almost 
more  so,  if  that  were  possible  ;  he  is  a  fierce  hater 
of  cant,  of  shams,  and  almost  disconcertingly  outspoken 
on  almost  every  possible  occasion.  In  this  respect  he 
resembles  his  much  lamented  elder  brother,  the  late 
Cardinal  Archbishop  of  Westminster.  I  remember 
when  I  paid  my  first  visit  to  Archbishop  Vaughan, 
as  he  then  was,  I  dropped  on  one  knee  to  kiss  his 
ring.      He    dragged    me    hastily   to   my   feet. 

"  Why  do  you  do  that?  "  he  said.  "  You  are  not 
a  Catholic,  are  you?  " 

"  Why,  no,  your  Grace,"  I  replied,  a  little  nettled 
at  my  well-meant  courtesy  being  taken  in  such  a  spirit, 
"  but  I  thought  I  ought  to  do  it  to  a  Prince  of  a  great 
Church,   even   though   I    don't   belong   to    that    Church 


2o6  DR.  PARKER  AND  FATHER  VAUGHAN 

myself.  I  always  did  it  with  your  predecessor,  Cardinal 
Manning,    in  this   very   room   too." 

"  Oh  well,"  replied  the  Archbishop,  "  there  is  no 
occasion  for  you  to  do  it  to  me,  though  Cardinal 
Manning  let  you  do   it." 

I  grimly  smiled  as  I  replied  in  my  turn,  "  Well, 
your  Grace,  I  am  sure  I  don't  object.  I  have  no 
mind  to  be  unduly  servile,"  and  I  recalled  at  the 
moment  a  sort  of  parallel  conversation  with  the  Cardinal 
only  a  few  months   before. 

"  Do  you  agree  with  what  Dr.  Vaughan  said  yester- 
day,   your   Eminence?  "    I    had    asked. 

To  which  Cardinal  Manning,  sniffing  vigorously  as 
was  his  wont,  dryly  replied,  "  I  lay  no  claim  to  the 
prophetic  gifts  of  the  Bishop  of  Salford." 

Well,  Father  Vaughan  is  as  outspoken  and  as  down- 
right as  his  episcopal  brother,  whom,  by  the  by,  he 
much  resembles  physically^  possessing  the  same  ex- 
tremely handsome,  finely  cut  features,  the  straight  nose, 
the  firm  mouth,  the  direct  gaze,  the  lofty  forehead. 
Father  Vaughan  would  be  a  noticeable  and  a  distin- 
guished figure  in  any  gathering  ;  in  the  pulpit  he  is 
the  very  type  of  a  Savonarola  or  a  Pere  Agostini — 
fervid,  impassioned,  eloquent,  persuasive  ;  but  I  will 
deal  with  him  later  in  this  aspect  of  his  varied  life 
and  occupations.  Socially,  of  course,  he  is  an  immense 
favourite.  I  honestly  don't  believe  there  is  a  more 
popular  man  in  London,  and  he  is  that  without  abating 
one  iota  of  his  principles  ;  he  is  so  popular  just  because 
he  is  so  true  to  his  Christ,  his  Church,  his  convic- 
tions, and  his  country.  He  is  not  that  odious  and 
despicable  person,  the  popular  hail-fellow-well-met 
parson  only  too  common,  I  fear,  in  the  Anglican  Church, 
who  submerges  his  creed  and  convictions  beneath  the 
waves    of   popularity    and    popular   opinion.      Bernard 


DR.  PARKER  AND  FATHF:R  VAUGHAN   207 

Vaughan  is  one  of  the  truest  and  most  faithful  priests 
I  have  ever  known  ;  intense  personal  love  and  devoted- 
ness  to  his  Lord  and  Master  is  the  dominant  feature 
of  his  inspiring  personality.  Sometimes  people  wonder 
he  has  not  been  raised  to  the  purple  like  three  of  his 
brothers,  Herbert,  Roger,  and  John.  The  fact  of  the 
matter  is,  he  has  chosen  the  life  of  a  Jesuit,  and  Jesuits 
renounce  all  dignities.  I  believe  Father  Vaughan  was 
offered  a  high  rank  but  declined  it.  And  he  is  very 
broad-minded  and  full  of  human  sympathy.  I  remem- 
ber once  on  board  a  P.  and  O.  in  which  he  and  I  were 
travellings  I  arranged  with  the  captain  that  on  the 
Sunday  afternoon  Father  Vaughan  should  give  a  purely 
unsectarian  address  in  the  saloon.  He  had  already 
said  Mass  and  preached  in  the  morning.  I  went  over 
to  invite  the  second-class  to  attend,  and  there  I  found 
two  dissenting  ministers  just  preparing  to  hold  a  ser- 
vice. I  told  them  my  errand,  and  the  good  men  said, 
"  Why,  certainly,  we'll  come  at  once  and  bring  all  our 
congregation."  And  so  they  did.  Punctually  to  the 
moment  Father  Vaughan  entjered  the  saloon,  clad  in 
his  biretta  and  Jesuit's  gown,  and  then  and  there  he 
gave  us  a  most  fervid  and  inspiring  discourse  on  the 
Being  of  God,  a  discourse  which  deUghted  all  his 
hearers,  especially  the  two  Nonconformist  ministers, 
who  begged  him  to  come  over  and  speak  in  the 
second-class,  and  a  discourse  in  which  there  was  not 
a  word  to  which  the  most  fiery  Protestant  could  pos- 
sibly have  taken  exception.  And  that  without  com- 
promising a  principle  or  a  dogma.  Compromise  is  as 
hateful  to  him,  indeed,  as  was  the  smell  of  the  counter- 
gate  to   Falstaff. 

"  That's  the  worst  of  the  Church  of  England,"  he 
said  to  me  one  summer  day  a  few  years  ago  as  we 
walked   across    Hyde    Park    and    caught    a   glimpse    of 


2o8  DR".  PARKER  AND  FATHER  VAUGHAN 

the  Anglican  clerics  hurrying  in  their  thousands  to 
the  great  Pan-Anglican  Conference  ;  "  the  Church 
of  England  is  one  great  compromise." 

"  Well,  Father,"  I  suggested,  "  why  don't  you  attend 
the  Conference  and  tell  them  so?  " 

"  Oh,"  he  wittily  replied,  "  if  I  went  the  papers 
would  at  once  call  it  the  Peter-Pan-Anglican  Con- 
ference, and  that  would  never  suit  our  friend  the  Bishop 
of  London  !  " 

A  few  years  ago,  when  he  was  preaching  his  famous 
series  of  sermons  on  "  The  Sins  of  Society  " — I  think  it 
was  the  very  same  year — I  had  a  talk  with  him  about 
preaching,  and  I  remember  I  asked  him  how  he  knew 
so  much  about  the  frailties  of  the  smart  set,  and  if  he 
really  considered  it  quite  the  best  topic  for  the  pulpit, 
and   he  very  vigorously   replied — 

"  My  dear  Capper,  a  priest  is  like  the  surgeon  :  he 
must  use  the  knife  at  times,  painful  and  disagreeable 
as  it  may  be.  The  pulpit  is  not  only  for  comfort  and 
instruction  ;  it  is  also  for  reproof  and  denunciation.  I 
hate  the  prophet  who  is  always  preaching  smooth 
things.  He  is  unfaithful  to  the  trust  God  has  confided 
to  him.  You  wonder  how  I  know  the  sins  I  expose. 
Well,  it  is  my  business  to  do  so.  I  keep  my  eyes 
open  and  my  ears  also.  Besides,  poor  human  nature 
is  much  the  same  in  all  sections  of  the  community. 
A  Jesuit  priest  is  almost  necessarily  what  is  called  a 
man  of  the  world,  which,  you  understand,  is  a  very 
different  thing  from  that  odious  creature  a  worldly 
man.  A  worldly  priest  is  anathema  ;  but  a  priest  who 
is  not  in  the  highest  and  best  sense  of  the  word  a 
man  of  the  world  is  not  going  to  get  at  and  worry  it. 
And  my  worst  enemies.  Capper,  may  call  me  a  fool,  but 
never  a  knave  or  a  coward." 

"  Quite  so.   Father,"   I   replied,   *'  but   I   have   heard 


DR.  PARKER  AND  FATHER  VAUGHAN  209 

some  rather  sharp  criticism  of  your  outspokenness,  which 
some  people  consider  is  out  of  place  in  God's  house." 
"  *  My   house  shall   be   called   the   house   of   prayer, 
but  ye  have  made  it  a  den  of  thieves/  "  gravely  replied 
Father   Vaughan.      "  If    I    cannot   discuss    the   sins    of 
human  nature  and  the  remedy  for  them  in  the  pulpit, 
where     is     my     mission?       Do     you     realize     that     a 
priest   is   in   the  pulpit  as  a  dying  man„   preaching   to 
dying  men   the  way  of  salvation,   and  am   I    to   with- 
hold my  tongue   from  reference  to  deadly  sins  simply 
because  it  offends  certain  old  women  of  either  sex  to 
hear   such   sins   and  subjects  discussed?      I    am   not  a 
dissenting  minister  who  believes  that   the  pulpit  is  all 
in  all  and  who  does  not  recognize  the  Altar  as  being 
supreme,    but    I    do   feel,    with   such   men   as   the    late 
Dr.   Parker  or  the  late  Mr.   Hugh  Price  Hughes,  that 
it  is  possible  to  go  too  far  in  the  other  extreme  and 
declare    that    the    pulpit    is   altogether   played   out.      I 
believe  that  the  sermon  to-day  is  as  important  as  ever 
it  was   in  the  whole  history  of  the   Church,  and  it   is 
mainly    because    the    Anglican    Church    has    failed   to 
recognize  this  truth  that  it   is   the  feeble  and  anaemic 
institution  it  has  become.     When  I  was  a  young  man 
the    Church    of    England    believed    in    the    divinity    of 
Christ.      Does   it    to-day?      With  us   the   Altar   is   the 
most  divine  and  spiritual  part  of  the  Churchy  and  to 
it  all  must  bow  in  adoration,  and  before  it  we  must  cast 
down  equally  the  crown  of  triumph  and  the  cross  of 
suffering  ;    but   the   pulpit   is   the  most   human   part  of 
the  Church,  and  I  am  man  enough  and  human  enough 
to  recognize  that,  whilst  we  realize  and  provide  for  the 
spiritual  part  of  man,  we  must  not  neglect  the  human 
side  of  man.     Therefore,  in  the  pulpit  I  deal  not  only 
with  the  spiritual  side  of  man,  but  also  with  the  purely 
human    side.      The    preacher   knows    that    faith    comes 

15 


2IO  DR.  PARKER  AND  FATHER  VAUGHAN 

by  hearing,  and  he  recognizes  that  as  ambassador  of 
Christ  he  must  give  an  account  of  every  word  used 
in  a  discourse.  Not  only  must  he  say  what  his  Divine 
Master  wants  him  to  say^  but  he  must  say  it  in  the 
language  in  which  He  wants  him  to  deliver  it." 

"  And  do  you  find  that  society  really  appreciates  the 
pulpit  as  much  as  it  did  in  the  Middle  Ages?  "  I 
asked. 

"  Well/'  somewhat  dryly  replied  Father  Vaughan, 
"  I  am  getting  on  in  years,  I  know,  but  at  all  events 
I  didn't  happen  to  be  living  in  the  Middle  Ages,  though 
appearances  may  be  against  me.  Of  course,"  he  went 
on  very  vigorously — "  of  course,  society  appreciates 
the  pulpit  when  it  is  put  to  the  right  purpose  and 
fulfilling  its  special  vocation  in  the  right  way.  And 
not  only  society,  but  every  class  of  the  community 
in  all  countries  loves,  nay,  enjoys  a  good  sermon — 
that  is,  alas  !  the  right  word  for  it — they  enjoy  a 
sermon  too  much.  Thousands  of  people  actually 
prefer  a  good  sermon  to  a  good  theatre.  That 
I  know  for  a  fact,  and  not  religious  people  either, 
and  there  is  the  danger  of  the  popular  preacher.  Do 
you  think  I  don't  know  it?  Nowhere  is  the  Holy 
Spirit  more  necessary  than  in  the  pulpit  and  in  the 
pew,  otherwise  the  preacher  preaches  to  his  own  damna- 
tion, and  gives  no  message  from  the  Master.  As  long 
as  a  priest  does  his  best  for  God  he  may  be  absolutely 
sure  of  a  blessing  on  the  seed  he  sows  into  the  hearts 
of  his  hearers.  I  should  much  like  to  see  what  th,e 
French  well  describe  as  the  Conference  system  estab- 
lished here  in  England.  Bossuet  and  Lacordaire  and 
others  like  them  effected  a  great  work  for  the  Church 
by,  their  preaching.  Think  what  Savonarola  did  for 
Florence  and  Peter  the  Hermit  for  the  Crusades  !  Think 
what  any,  really  earnest  Catholic  preacher  with  God's 


DR.  PARKER  AND  FATHER  VAUGHAN   211 

blessing  could  do  to-day  for  society  !  I  have  made 
it  my  duty,  my  sacred  duty,  to  take  up  one  by  one 
some  of  the  evils  which  are  sapping  the  life  and  deaden- 
ing the  souls  of  London  society  to-day.  Think,  for 
instance,  of  the  silly,  rotten,  spiritualistic  supersti- 
tions with  which  the  whole  social  fabric  to-day  is 
absolutely  sodden.  Talk  of  the  superstitions  of  the 
Middle  Ages  !  Why,  they  are  nothing  compared  to 
those  of  to-day.  Hard-headed  stockbrokers,  worldly, 
rehgion-neglecting  countesses,  racing  men  and  actors 
sending  their  old  gloves  to  some  scoundrelly  old  hag 
in  Bond  Street  to  be  told  their  future,  or  if  some 
speculation  will  come  right,  or  who  they  ought  to 
marry  !  Reading  their  fate  in  crystals  !  This 
spiritualism  and  dabbling  in  devilry  threatens  to  fill 
the  mad-houses.  And  then  there  are  people  who 
declaim  against  me  for  sensationalism  and  degrading 
the  pulpit  !  What  would  Christ  have  said?  What 
did  He  say?  Fancy  sane  people  leaving  our  Divine 
Lord  to  follow  the  idiocies  and  vapourings  of  the 
Mayfair  witch  !  " 

One  day  in  the  great  war  year  1 9 1  5  I  went  to  Farm 
Street  Church  on  purpose  to  hear  the  Father.  It  was  an 
interesting  experience.  The  church  was  crammed  from 
top  to  bottom,  and  many  notable  faces  were  to  be  seen 
in  the  congregation.  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  King 
of  Portugal  with  his  wife  and  mother  seated  in  the 
chancel,  and  many  a  lovely  woman  gazed  up  entranced 
at  the  eloquent  priest  ;  many  a  khaki-clad  warrior 
forgot  for  a  moment  the  horrors  of  the  storm-swept 
trenches  as  he  listened  to  the  expounding  of  those 
wonders  that  neither  eye  hath  seen  nor  ear  heard,  and 
which  it  has  not  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  to  con- 
ceive, the  beauties  and  the  marvels  that  God  hath 
prepared  for  them  that  love  Him.     It  was  just  a  tiny 


212  DR.  PARKER  AND  FATHER  VAUGHAN 

but  a  very  typical  phase  of  London  society  life  in  the 
height  of  the  season,  even  such  a  season  as  the  late 
season,  and  one  realized  how  potent  still  and  how  irre- 
sistible is  the  power  and  function  of  the  pulpit  when 
they  are  exercised  by  the  right  man.  Two  thousand 
people  must  have  been  crammed  into  that  church — quite 
smart  people  glad  to  find  standing-room.  I  myself 
had  to  be  content  with  a  s'eat  in  the  sacristy.  If 
the  clergy  complain  of  empty  benches,  who  have 
emptied  them?  Not  preachers  in  dead  earnest,  fear- 
less, and  with  a  message. 

"  Before  I  begin  my  sermon  to-day,"  said  Father 
Vaughan,  after  he  had  read,  and  very  beautifully  and 
impressively  read,  the  Gospel  and  Epistle  for  the  day, 
"  I  must  mention  two  things.  In  the  first  place,  I  have 
been  asked  to  sign  a  petition  that  the  theatres  shall 
be  closed.  Well,  I  am  not  going  to.  Why  should  I? 
How  the  war  on  the  Continent  is  to  be  affected  by  the 
starvation  of  a  number  of  good  and  worthy  people 
here  in  London  I  cannot  imagine,  and  secondly,  before 
talking  about  closing  the  theatres  you  ought  first  of  all 
to  close  the  parks.  I  assure  you  that  the  theatres 
are  decent  and  sweet  and  wholesome  compared  with 
the  parks.  After  sundown  close  Hyde  Park  and  open 
the  theatres.  There  might  be  some  sense  in  that, 
none  in  starving  actors  and  actresses.  And  then  I 
•would  like  to  say  a  word  with  reference  to  the  inter- 
view with  the  Holy  Father  in  regard  to  the  attitude 
of  the  Holy  See  towards  the  war."  Both  sides, 
said  the  preacher,  were  asking  why  had  not  Pope 
Benedict  XV  condemned  the  methods  of  warfare  made 
use  of  by  the  other  side?  From  both  contending  parties 
the  Holy  Father  heard  conflicting  and  contradictory 
statements.  What  was  he  to  do?  He  condemned  in 
the  abstract  all  unlawful  acts  of  violence,   but  till  he 


DR.  PARKER  AND  FATHER  VAUGHAN.  213 

was  in  possession  of  the  reality  of  the  situation  he 
could  not  denounce  in  the  concrete.  During  the  past 
iweek  the  Pope  had  given  an  intet'view  to  a  French 
paper.  Had  he  given  the  interview  reported?  It  was 
a  faked  interview,  the  interviewer  making  the  Holy 
Father  say,  not  what  he  had  said  but  what  the  paper 
wanted  him  to  have  said.  We  may  be  sure  the  Pope 
will  be  slow  to  express  his  mind  in  the  near  future 
to  any   Pressman. 

And  then,  giving  out  his  text  from  the  Apocalypse — 
"  Who  are  these  which  are  arrayed  in  white  robes  and 
whence  came  they?  " — he  preached  a  very  moving,  a 
very  eloquent,  a  very  poetic  sermon,  and  one  as  full 
of  colour  as  a  picture  by  Titian  or  Raphael,  upon  thei 
joys  of  those  who  have  passed  within  the  veil,  a  sermon 
singularly  appropriate  to  an  audience  scarcely  a  member 
of  which  but  did  not  mourn  a  fond  husband  or  a 
dearly  loved  son  or  brother  dead  upon  the  field  of 
honour.  A  stray  beam  of  sunshine  fell  upon  the  fine 
face  of  the  preacher  ;  it  illuminated  the  rather  sad 
features  of  the  exiled  king  ;  it  brought  into  strong 
relief  the  delicate  face  of  a  high-born  society  lady, 
and  it  linked,  as  it  were,  preacher  and  hearers  in  a 
curious  bond  of  fellowship,  typical  perhaps,  though  it 
may  be  fanciful  to  say  so_,  of  that  great  Light  that 
shines  down  upon  the  world  from  the  Great  White 
Throne.  The  sermon  moved  the  congregation  to  tears, 
and  I  heard  a  young  Guardsman  say  as  he  came  out 
of  the  church,  "  I  had  a  pretty  hard  job  trying  to 
hold  myself  back,  and  at  last  I  let  myself  go  and 
had  a  rare  old  sob  !  "  Princess  Margaret  of  Denmark, 
who  sat  near  Queen  Amelie,  was  as  much  overcome 
and  more  so  than  the  Guardsman.  I  am  bound 
to  acknowledge,  however,  that,  pretty  and  sentimental 
though  the  sermon  was,  it  was  as   totally  wanting  in 


2  14  DR.  PARKER  AND  FATHER  VAUGHAN 

any  originality  of  thought  as  it  absolutely  lacked  vision, 
insight,  or  idealism  of  any  degree  whatever,  and  I 
could  not  but  marvel  at  the  almost  rapture  with  which 
it  was  received  by  a  congregation  which  certainly  was 
composed  of  the  obviously  upper  classes,  and  which, 
apparently,  was  of  a  high  mental  order.  It  says  much 
for  the  vivid  and  pungent  personality  of  the  preacher 
that,  year  after  year,  he  is  able  to  secure  for  himself 
a  hearing  and  a  congiegation  such  as  neither  Newman 
nor  Dean  Church  can  ever  have  surpassed,  and  one 
asks  oneself  wonderingly  why  it  is.  Fine  elocution, 
graceful  phraseology,  and  a  singularly  imposing 
presence,  unaided  by  either  deep  spirituality  or  any 
high  mental  qualities  whatever,  have  rarely  gone  so 
far  towards  the  popularization  of  an  eloquent  preacher 
as  they  have  done  in  the  case  of  Father  Vaughan,  but 
I  confess  myself  that  I  could  well  have  put  up  with  a 
little  more  matter,  even  at  the  expense  of  less  manner. 
Vox  et  preterea  nihil  is  sadly  unsatisfying  to  the 
man  who  is  craving  for  one  great  sustaining  and  in- 
spiring idea.  At  the  same  time  I  am  bound  to  own 
Father  Vaughan  stirred  the  hearts  of  all  who  heard 
him  that  sorrowful  day  of  prayer,  and  I  am  sure 
his  simple  teaching  and  his  heartfelt  eloquence  brought 
comfort  and  assurance  to  many  an  aching  heart  ;  and 
in  that  reflection  I  found  some  assurance  and  explana- 
tion of  the  love  and  esteem  in  which  he  is  held  by 
the  community  in  general  to-day,  whether  in  Mayfair 
or   in    Whitechapel. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

MY   INDIAN  TOUR 

First   and   General   Impressions 

For  many  years  it  had  been  the  dream  of  my  life  to 
visit  India  and  the  Far  East,  but  it  was  not  until  191 1 
that  I  saw  my  way  to  fulfilling  my  dream.  However, 
in  that  year  I  decided  I  would  pay  a  professional 
visit  to  our  Eastern  Empire,  and  I  also  decided  I 
would  not  make  any  arrangements  beforehand  ;  I 
resolved  that,  as  poor  Oscar  Wilde  used  to  say,  I  should 
simply  let  things  occur.  It  is  sometimes  the  best  way, 
though  I  frankly  own  it  is  rather  a  risky  proceeding, 
but  it  turned  out  all  right  in  my  case.  Now  it 
chanced  that  as  I  was  discussing  my  plans  one  day  with 
Owen  Hughes,  a  young  Malvernian  and  Cambridge 
Blue,  whom  I  had  known  since  he  was  a  child,  and  who 
was  a  superb  conjurer — so  clever  a  conjurer,  indeed, 
that,  young  though  he  was,  hardly  more  than  a  school- 
boy, he  had  been  elected  a  member  of  the  Inner  Circle, 
the  Holy  of  Holies,  as  it  were,  of  the  famous  Magic 
Circle,  a  marvellous  mystic  society  which  has  its  head- 
quarters at  St.  George's  Hall,  and  which  numbers 
amongst  its  members  persons  of  every  class  of  the 
community  who  are  interested  in  any  shape  or  form  in 
the    mystic    or    the    magic  :     soldiers,    sailors,    authors, 

musicians,     stockbrokers,      smart     young      Guardsmen, 

215 


2i6  MY    INDIAN    TOUR" 

University  professors,  country  clergymen,  bankers — any 
one  and  every  one  of  whom  you  can  think  ;  but  Owen 
Hughes  was  so  skilled,  so  brilliant,  and  so  accomplished 
a  conjurer  that  he  had  been  admitted,  as  I  say,  to  the 
Inner  Circle  of  this  wonderful  society.  I  can  honestly 
say  that  I  myself  have  never  seen  any  professional 
conjurer  who  surpassed  Owen  Hughes  in  the  perform- 
ance of  certain  tricks.  In  addition  to  his  many  accom- 
pHshments,  his  wonderful  sleight  of  hand,  he  was 
a  very  tall,  handsome  young  fellow,  with  a  charm  of 
manner  and  a  faculty  for  making  friends  that  I  have 
never  seen  equalled  ;  clever  at  games,  well  read, 
accomplished,  and  a  universal  favourite  wherever  he 
appeared.  Well,  as  I  say,  I  was  discussing  my  Indian 
tour  with  this  young  fellow  when  he  suddenly  said, 
"  Oh,  Mr.  Capper,  I  wish  you  would  let  me  come  with 
you.  I  will  do  some  of  my  best  tricks  and  we  can 
work  and  travel  together."  This  rather  took  my  breath 
away,  and  I  replied  that  he  must  first  refer  it  all  to  his 
parents.  Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  Owen 
Hughes  received  their  permission  to  go  with  me, 
and  together  we  started  off  for  India  in  September 
191 1. 

I  can  never  forget  that  wonderful  tour,  nor  the 
sensations  I  experienced  when  at  last  I  found  myself 
on  board  the  P.  and  O.  steamer,  headed  for  the  golden 
East. 

And  that  word  "  headed  "  reminds  me,  most  inconse- 
quently  perhaps,  of  an  amusing  little  incident  that  is 
told  of  the  once  famous  and  beautiful  actress  Mrs. 
Brown-Potter.  She  was  touring  through  England 
Vidth  a  theatrical  company,  and  one  day  they  arrived 
in  Liverpool  en  route  for  the  Isle  of  Man,  where  they 
were  due  to  appear  the  same  night  at  the  Douglas 
Theatre.     Standing  huddled  together  upon  the  crowded 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  2.17, 

docks,   one  of   the  girls   went   up   to   Mrs.    Potter   and 
said — 

"  Which  is  our  ship,  Mrs.   Potter?  " 

The  famous  actress  waved  her  hand  vaguely  towards 
the  forest  of  masts  in  the  foreground. 

"  It's  that  ship,"  she  most  astonishingly  replied, 
"with  the  sharp  end  pointing  that  way." 

So  the  whole  company  trooped  on  to  "  that  ship  with 
the  sharp  end  pointing  that  way,"  and  there  they  stood 
and  waited  like  a  flock  of  sheep  without  a  shepherd, 
for  my  dear  Mrs.  Potter  is  in  these  matters  but  a 
blind  leader  of  the  blind.  At  last  up  came  the  captain 
of  the  ship  to  the  disconsolate  party,  who  were  begin- 
ing  to  wonder  when  on  earth  they  were  going  to  sail. 

"  And  where  may  all  of  you  be  going,  ladies?  " 
said  he. 

"  We  are  going  to  the  Isle  of  Man,"  was  the  chorus 
of  feminine  voices. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  replied  the  man  of  the  sea, 
"  but  your  ship  is  just  visible  over  there  on  the  horizon  ; 
this  ship   is  bound  for  New  York  !  " 

I  stood  with  the  first  officer  at  the  head  of  the  gang- 
way, idly  watching  the  people  coming  on  board  ;  and 
I  amused  myself,  at  intervals,  discussing  the  peculiari- 
ties and  little  habits  of  passengers,  and  especially 
women  passengers,  with  this  grimly  humorous  first 
officer,  who,  with  his  massive,  sunburnt,  weather-beaten, 
clean-shaven  face  and  startlingly  piercing  blue  eyes, 
appealed  enormously  to  any  one  who,  like  myself,  is 
something  of  a  physiognomist  and  a  keen  reader  of 
character.  He  was  delightfully  humorous,  and  particu- 
larly so  on  the  subject  of  women  travellers.  Whether 
he  most  detested  them  or  was  most  amused  by  them  I 
was  never  able  to  determine,  but  he  kept  me  laughing 
the  whole  time. 


2i8  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

"  Lord  !  "  he  said.  "  Who  would  have  my  job? 
Look  at  all  those  women  !  Silly  idiots  !  They  have 
a  perfect  faculty  for  doing  the  wrong  thing  ;  it's  a 
heaven-born  gift  with  some  of  them  ;  they  never  fail 
to  do  exactly  what  a  man  would  not  do.  And  the  worst 
of  them  is  they  always  come  to  me  in  their  difficulties. 
It  all  falls  on  my  shoulders.  Now,  look  at  these  two 
old  *  geesers  '  corning  up  the  gangway.  I  bet  you 
anything  you  like  they  come  straight  up  to  me  and  ask 

me   some   d d   silly   question,"   and   as   he   spoke  he 

pointed  to  two  very  tall,  thin,  acid-looking  old  maids 
who  were  vigorously  but  deliberately  forcing  their 
way  up  the  narrow  gangway.  Arrived  on  deck, 
they  looked  round  and  about  them,  and  then  spy- 
ing out  my  friend,  the  eldest  sister  walked  straight 
up  to   him. 

"  Are  you  the  chief  officer?  " 

"  I  am  that,  madam,"  he  replied. 

"  May  I  ask  you  a  question?  "  she  next  re- 
marked. 

"  Here  for  the  purpose,  madam,"  he  answered, 
with  a  sly  glance  at  me,  little  knowing  what  was 
coming. 

"  Have  you  got  any  elephants  on  board?  "  said  the 
lady. 

Rather  staggered,  but  with  imperturbable  face,  the 
chief  replied — 

"  I  haven't  observed  any  on  deck,  madam." 

*'  Take  care,  young  man,"  the  lady  said,  with  a 
stern  glance  in  his  direction  ;  "  take  care  !  I  asked 
the  question  in  a  purely  metaphorical  sense,"  and 
she  stalked  away.  And  what  she  meant  neither 
the  chief  nor  I  have  ever  been  able  to  arrive  at  to 
this  day. 

"  Women  are  a  queer  lot,"  said  the  same  officer  to 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  219 

me  one  day.  "  I  often  wonder  if  they  know  where 
they  are  going  or  what  they  are  doing.  I 
remember  once  I  was  chief  officer  of  a  famous  touring 
ship.  One  day  we  arrived  at  Haifa,  in  Palestine,  and 
about  fifty  passengers  got  off  to  make  a  two-days' 
tour  to  Nazareth  and  the  Lake  of  Tiberias.  I  was 
standing  by  the  gangway,  waiting  to  receive  them  on 
their  return.  As  they  came  on  deck  one  pretty,  fluffy 
little  lady  came  to  me.  '  Oh,  Mr.  Smith,'  she  said, 
'  we've  had  such  a  lovely  time  !  I  wish  you  had  been 
with  us.'  (I  didn't,"  he  grimly  added  in  parenthesis.) 
"  '  Every  one  said  mine  was  the  smartest  hat  ever  seen 
in  Nazareth,  and  I  was  quite  charmed  with  Siberia — no 
Russians  or  knouts  or  prisoners  or  anything  horrid  as 
I   had   expected  !  '  " 

The  voyage  was  cool,  calm,  and  uneventful,  and 
altogether  delightful.  Mrs.  Besant,  accompanied  by 
a  band  of  Theosophist  friends,  was  on  board,  and  they 
appeared  to  be  vastly  interested  in  a  performance  that 
I  gave  for  a  charity  on  board  ship.  It  was  after  this 
performance,  indeed,  that  one  of  the  lady's  dark-skinned 
followers,  a  charming,  gentle,  handsome  personality, 
being  obviously  much  impressed  by  what  he  had  seen, 
came  up  to  me  and  begged  me  to  read  and  study  their 
tenets,  as  he  felt  persuaded,  from  what  he  had  seen 
of  my  entertainment,  that  I  had  the  makings  of  a  very 
great  Mystic  and  Theosophist  in  me.  I  can  never 
forget  that  evening,  and  though  I  have  spent  many 
an  interesting  hour  in  my  performances,  this  special 
evening  stands  unforgettably  out  from  hundreds  ofl 
others  by  reason  of  a  certain  nameless  charm  and 
indefinable  air  of  romance  which  hung  about  it.  I 
suppose  it  was  the  novelty  of  the  scene  and  the  utter 
unaccustomedness  of  my  surroundings  that  >appealed 
so  immensely  to  me. 


220  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

We  were  far  down  the  Red  Sea,  and  India  and  the 
mysterious  East  lay  waiting  our  arrival,  veiled  from 
our  sight  by  a  golden  mist.  The  ship  glided  almost 
noiselessly  through  the  phosphorescent  water,  the  gently 
swaying  masts  described  mathematical  patterns  upon 
the  deep  blue  canopy  of  heaven,  and  just  as  I  had  con- 
cluded my  entertainment,  and  the  magic  and  the 
mystery  of  the  starlit  blue  were  entering  my  very  soul 
with  a  force  I  had  never  known  before,  a  friend  pointed 
away  down  to  the  south  and  said,  *'  There,  Capper, 
you  can  now  get  your  first  glimpse  of  the  Southern 
Cross." 

Arrived  in  Bombay,  I  immediately,  having  entered 
my  name  at  the  Taj  Mahal  Hotel,  secured  the  Bombay 
Town  Hall  for  the  following  Thursday  and  Friday 
evening,  just  about  a  week  after  my  arrival,  although 
Messrs.  Rose  &  Co.,  the  big  music  publishers,  had 
already  arranged  for  me  to  appear  at  Poona  first  of 
all,  on  the  Monday  and  Tuesday  immediately  following 
my  arrival. 

It  is  difficult  to  describe  my  sensations  on  my  first 
awaking  in  India  the  following  morning.  The  dawn 
was  just  giving  way  to  the  broad  light  of  day,  and 
as  my  bearer  brought  in  my  chota-hazri,  which  I  took, 
in  my  pyjamas,  on  the  i  little  balcony  outside  my  bed- 
room window,  I  was  'Utensely  amused  by  the  daringly 
impudent  little  grey  crows,  which  almost  hopped  on  to 
my  knee,  so  absolutely  fearless  were  they.  Nor  can 
I  forget  the  superb  metallic  cry  of  the  beautiful  hawk- 
like kites  as  they  wheeled,  with  immeasurable  and  in- 
describable grace,  in  that  sunlit  sky,  a  cry  which  con- 
tinually rose  above  the  clang  and  clatter  of  the  streets, 
which  speedily  filled  with  a  gaily  hued,  many-coloured, 
multitudinous  mob  of  people  composed  of  all  nationali- 
ties   of    the    earth — r    spectacle    upon    which    I    never 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  '    221 

wearied  of  gazing.  There  were  handsome,  fierce- 
looking  Pathans,  with  their  splendid  bronze  faces  keenly 
outlined  against  the  background,  haughtily  striding  by  ; 
or  hawk-visaged  Afghans,  with  the  pointed  green 
turbans  which  distinguish  them,  would  gaze  imper- 
turbably  upon  the  surging  crowd  ;  and  then  a  group 
of  Parsees,  with  formal  black  frock-coats,  buttoned 
up  to  the  neck,  and  their  quaint,  metallic- looking 
turbans,  would  hurry  by,  eagerly  discussing  the  day's 
business  ;  and  sweepers,  almost  naked,  with  dirty  rags 
gathered  tight  round  their  loins,  would  water  the  hot, 
dusty  streets,  with  the  native  policemen  lazily  looking 
on  ;  whilst  a  party  of  English  Tommies,  clean  and 
smart  in  white  linen  uniform,  or  in  the  now  familiar 
khaki,  would  march  by,  just  as  a  band  of  Roman 
soldiers  must  have  marched  through  Jerusalem  or 
through  a  little  town  in  Great  Britain  two  thousand 
years  ago,  and  I  realized,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,, 
something  of  the  majesty  and  the  wonder  and  the 
romance  and  the  nature  of  the  vast  problem  and  the 
meaning  of  British  Imperialism.  And  then,  just  when 
the  hubbub  was  at  its  zenith  and  a  hundred  different 
cries  rent  the  air  and  made  the  whole  place  one  un- 
believable Babel  of  sound,  the  bells  of  the  cathedral 
rang  out  clear  and  sharp  with  notes  that  soared  to 
heaven,  far  away  above  the  clangour  of  the  myriad 
voices  of  the  East,  and  I  fancied  myself  a  little  country 
boy  in  England  once  again  ;  for  this  is  what  those  bells 
so  slowly,  so  clearly,  so  deliberately,  and  so  un- 
hastingly  said  to  me  that  burning  morning  so  far 
away   in   the  glowing,   unchanging   East — 

Awake,  my  soul,  and  with  the  sun 
Thy  daily  stage  of  duty  run ; 
Shake  off  dull  sloth,  and  joyful  rise, 
To  pay  thy  morning  sacrifice. 


222  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

And  that  evening,  wandering  through  the  Moham- 
medan quarter  of  the  exquisite  city  of  Bombay,  I  heard 
the  Muezzin,  from  a  minaret  that  clave  the  blue  of  the 
arching  sky  M^ith  a  dazzling  point  of  white,  call  the 
Faithful  to  prayer  and  to  a  remembrance  that  Allah 
is  watching  over  them  all.  I  can  never  forget  my  first 
day   in   India. 

Now  it  chanced  that  for  a  time  in  Bombay  I  was  the 
guest  of  a  very  charming  and  kindly  man  who  had  come 
out  to  India,  in  answer  to  an  advertisement,  as  a  partner 
in  a  big  wine -merchant's  business  ;  but  what  was  extra- 
ordinarily odd  and  amusing  and  original  in  the  advertise- 
ment was  that  in  announcing  that  a  young  man  was 
invited  to  join  the  firm  as  partner,  the  mysterious  and 
utterly  inexplicable  condition  was  attached,  "  but  he 
must  be  something  of  an  ornithologist."  "  Now,"  as 
my  host  said  to  me,  "  what  on  earth  ornithology  had 
to  do  with  wine  I  was  unable  to  conceive,  until  I  reached 
the  wine -merchant's  office  and  found  that  a  large  half 
of  it  was  delivered  over  to  the  most  magnificent  collec- 
tion of  birds,  snakes,  fishes,  reptiles,  and  small  animals 
that  one  could  imagine." 

And,  indeed,  my  host  never  spoke  truer  words.  I 
never  heard  such  a  fiendish  row  in  all  my  life  as  that 
which  greeted  us  on  entering  the  wine -merchant's  office. 
I  began  to  think  that  the  birds  must  have  been  sampling 
their  master's  wares — and  doing  nothing  else  all  day 
and  all  night  long.  Parakeets  and  parrots  and  mynahs 
and  ravens  and  vultures  and  eagles  and  hawks  and  kites 
and  wild  cats  and  bats  and  flying  foxes — you  never 
saw  such  a  collection  in  your  life,  and  it  was  impossible 
to  hear  oneself  speak  ;  but  it  was  all  so  delightfully  un- 
English  and  unexpected,  and  so  absolutely  out  of  the 
common  and  away  from  the  ordinary,  that  I  was  simply 
charmed   and   delighted. 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  223 

I  hadn't  landed  twenty-four  hours  before  a  lady  who 
had  crossed  over  in  the  ship  with  me,  and  who  had 
expressed  herself  as  absolutely  delighted  with  my  enter- 
tainment, came  up  to  me  and  said  :  "  Now,  look  here, 
Mr.  Capper,  if  you  will  consent  to  give  an  entertain- 
ment here  in  the  hotel  to-morrow  night — because  I  am 
off  to  Lahore  the  following  day — I  will  take  the  big 
saloon  and  I  will  guarantee  you  at  least  one  hundred 
people  at  five  rupees  each,  and  you  can  have  the  Press, 
which  will  be  very  useful  for  your  own  entertainments  on 
Thursday  and  Friday  at  the  Town  Hall."  I,  of  course, 
was  delighted,  and  sure  enough  the  little  lady  set  to 
work  with  such  goodwill  and  such  success  that  I  had  no 
less  than  130  people  present,  with  no  end  of  splendid 
notices  in  the  Bombay  papers  next  morning,  thus  giving 
me  one  of  the  finest  send-offs  I  ever  had  in  my  life. 

And  now  I  must  tell  you,  while  I  think  of  it,  a  delight- 
ful joke  against  myself.  Many  men  wouldn't  tell  it, 
I  know,  but  my  sense  of  humour  is  too  keen  to  allow 
of  my  keeping  it  to  myself.  I  will  not  mention  the 
exact  locality,  but  it  took  place  in  a  certain  town,  with 
a  big  English  resident  population,  in   India. 

iWhen  I  arrived  at  the  station,  after  a  long  night's 
journey,  I  was  very  much  puzzled  and  a  good  deal 
amazed  with  the  extraordinary  conduct  of  some  of  the 
people  who  met  me  or  who  were  introduced  to  me. 
They  appeared  at  first  to  be  very  nervous,  and  then 
they  would  go  oft"  into  fits  of  silent  but  ill -suppressed 
laughter,  and  I  began  to  feel  rather  angry,  and,  of 
course,  immensely  puzzled.  However,  the  mystery  was 
soon  explained.  I  must  first  of  all  say  that  I  had  had 
some  enormous  advertisements  sent  out — what  are 
technically  known  in  the  trade  as  "  streamers,"  I  believe 
— and  just  as  we  drove  out  of  the  station  one  of  these 
streamers  on  a  very  magnificent  wall  that  boldly  faced 


224  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

the  main  thoroughfare  shouted,  literally  shouted,  not  to 
say  screamed,  out  to  all  the  passers-by  : — 

ALFRED    CAPPER 

Kills 
All  Beetles,  Bugs,  Heas,  Mosquitoes, 
Cockroaches  and  every  form  of 
Noxious  Vermin. 

I  was  horrified.  I  turned  to  the  man  who  had  come 
to  meet  me  and  I  said  :  "  What  on  earth  does  this 
mean?  It's  absurd  !  It  makes  a  perfect  laughing-stock 
of  me." 

Choking  down  his  feelings,  he  gasped  out  :  "  I  know, 
Mr.  Capper.  I  am  awfully  sorry  ;  but  you  see  your 
streamer  has  been  posted  over  one  of  Keating's  old  bills. 
Underneath  your  name  it  really  reads  :  '  Keating's 
Powder  kills ,'  and  so  on  and  so  on." 

The  mystery  was  out  at  last,  but  even  then  the  jokte 
wasn't  over,  for  I  hadn't  been  in  my  hotel  five  minutes 
before  the  servant  ushered  in  a  native  gentleman  of 
sorts  who  salaamed  most  politely,  although  I  noticed 
with  alarm  and  disgust  that  he  kept  continually  scratch- 
ing himself,  and  who  then  said — 

"  You  are  Mr.   Capper,  sah?  " 

I  replied,  "  Yes,  I  am  Mr.  Capper,  and  what  can 
I   do  for  you?  " 

To  which  he  answered  :  *'  Sah,  in  my  house  I  having 
fleas  and  bugs  and  beetles  and  all  noxious  vermin  in 
vast  profusion,  I  very  glad  you  coming  and  killing  all 
these  animals  which  most  distressing  and  disturbing 
to  all  peace  of  mind  and  soul  and  body.  This  my 
address,  sah,  and  I  hope  you  coming  without  any  un- 
necessary delay.  As  the  wise  man  says  in  classics,  '  He 
gives  twice  who  gives  quickly.'  " 

"  Get  out  !  "  I  cried,  in  a  perfect  fury  of  anger  and 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  225 

yet   suffocated   with   laughter,    "  get   out   and   kill   your 
own  noxious  vermin  in  your  own  horrible  way." 

I  am  not  so  fatuous  as  to  attempt  to  foist  upon  my 
readers  a  serious  or  detailed  criticism  of  India,  the 
most  varied  and  most  tremendously  problematical 
country  in  the  world.  I  am  not  discovering  India  ;  all 
that  I  am  fairly  entitled  to  do  is  to  give  very  sketchily 
just  a  few  of  my  impressions  of  a  land  that  fascinated 
me  beyond  all  words.  The  very  mission  upon  which  I 
was  bent  but  added  interest  to  my  tour.  My  friends 
had  said  to  me  when  I  quitted  England  :  "  But  fancy 
you  going  to  the  home  of  mystery  !  Why,  it's  like 
carrying  coals  to  Newcastle."  Exactly,  and  it  was  for 
that  reason  my  tour  was  such  a  success.  The  people  of 
India  love  mystery  and  mysticism  ;  the  whole  atmo- 
sphere is  impregnated  with  the  spiritual  ;  the  invisible 
and  the  eternal  always  there  take  precedence  of  the 
visible,  the  temporal,  and  the  material  in  the  hearts  and 
minds  of  those  myriads  of  ancient  peoples,  and  therefore 
they  were  intensely  interested  in  my  announcements  and 
predisposed  in  my  favour.  And  then,  again,  I  think  I 
may  fairly  claim  that  Hughes  and  I  not  only  gave  as 
good  as  we  received,  but  we  actually  beat  the  people  at 
their  own  game.  Hughes  was  a  far  finer  conjurer  and 
magician  than  any  we  ever  saw  there,  and  I  can  honestly 
say  I  never  encountered  any  fakir  who  could  surpass 
my  own  performance  in  skill,  wonder,  or  interest.  I 
saw  their  famous  and  much-vaunted  mango  trick  at 
least  fifty  times  performed  and  by  at  least  fifty  different 
people,  but  Hughes  could  have  done  it  just  as  well. 
I  never  once  saw  the  much-vaunted  rope  trick,  by 
which  it  is  so  often  alleged  that  the  conjurer,  climbing 
up  a  rope  which  has  been  thrown  into  the  air,  disappears 
into  the  unknown,  and  I  never  encountered  any  one  who 
had  seen  it  either.      But  the  people  were  undoubtedly 

16 


226  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

keenly  and  intelligently  interested  in  my  thought-read- 
ing. I  remember  when  I  gave  my  entertainment  at  the 
Maharajah  of  Mysore's  palace  that  the  interest  and 
excitement  were  so  keen  that  even  the  ladies  of  the 
harem,  hidden  jealously  behind  the  purdah,  continually 
tore  aside  the  curtains  that  they  the  more  easily  might 
be  witnesses  of  what  I  was  doing — a  thing  that  probably 
has  never  been  experienced  in  the  whole  long  history 
of  feminine  native  India.  And  I  recall,  too,  the  keen 
intellectual  interest  and  pleasure  that  the  Prince  himself 
and  his  Prime  Minister  took  in  my  proceedings,  and  the 
searching  questions  they  put  to  me  afterwards  as  to 
how  it  was  all  done. 

Of  course  the  glimpses  I  caught  of  the  natives 
of  India  were  too  few  and  far  between  and  too 
casual  for  me  to  be  able  to  express  any  opinion 
upon  them,  but  those  few  glimpses  were  extremely 
favourable  to  the  natives  themselves.  I  often  thought 
their  conduct  compared  more  than  favourably  with,  let 
us  say,  that  of  some  of  our  own  soldiers  who  attended 
my  entertainments,  many  of  which  were  almost  ruined 
by  the  drunken,  disorderly,  and  ill-mannered  interrup- 
tions to  which  I  was  so  frequently  subjected  during  my 
progress  through  India,  whenever  I  gave  an  entertain- 
ment, as  I  so  often  did,  at  the  theatres  Oif  the  regimental 
barracks.  Now  I  yield  to  none  in  my  admiration  for 
the  British  Tommy— his  pluck,  his  good-heartedness, 
his  generosity,  his  enduringness  of  spirit  ;  he  is  magnifi- 
cent, and  there  is  no  one  better  than  he  in  the  whole 
world  ;  but  to  be  equally  plain,  there  is  no  one  worse  in 
the  whole  world  when  he  is  drunk,  as  he  so  often  was  at 
my  Indian  entertainments.  Then  he  is  a  low-minded 
blackguard,  and  half  a  dozen  times  over  I  have  cursed 
him  and  his  horrible  manners  when  he  has  gone  far 
towards    wrecking    my    whole    performance.       I    quite 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  227 

frankly  acknowledge  that  these  men  were  in  a  minority, 
but  at  all  events  they  were  such  a  hateful  and  so  noisy 
a  minority  that  at  last  we  gave  up  performing  at  the 
regimental  barracks  altogether.  I  simply  could  not 
endure  the  annoyance  of  it  all.  I  know  certain  people 
will  be  horrified  at  my  daring  to  say  this.  To-day 
Tommy  Atkins  is  sacred  ;  he  is  the  national  hero,  and 
woe  to  him  who  dares  to  say  one  word  against  him  ! 
But  it  is  a  scientific  fact  that  there  are  spots  in  the  sun,, 
and  Tommy  Atkins  is  not  perfect,  and  I  don't  see  why 
I  shouldn't  say  so  frankly  and  plainly.  No  one  realizes 
more  than  I  do  all  that  Tommy  has  done  for  the  Empire, 
which  was  originally  carved  out  of  the  world  by  the 
sword  and  bayonet  of  the  British  soldier,  and  which  is 
maintained  by  the  aid  of  his  strong  arm.  But  what  the 
British  Tommy  would  do  well  to  realize  is  that  he  is  an 
apostle,  an  ambassador,  a  missionary  of  Empire,  and 
that  he  alone  of  all  people  is  bound  to  set  a  good 
example  to  the  natives  of  India,  many,  if  not  most,  of 
whom  lead  far  finer  lives  and  set  a  far  nobler  example 
and  follow  a  far  loftier  ideal  than  our  soldiers  could 
ever  do.  An  example  of  what  I  had  always  said  : 
India  is  the  home  of  the  spiritual  and  the  mystic,  and 
England  of  the  grossly  material. 

And  yet  I  am  bound  to  add  that  my  sojourn 
in  India  and  the  Far  East  gave  me  a  new  vision 
of  the  British  people.  Without  patting  ourselves 
too  much  upon  the  back,  I  realize  and  I  am  per- 
suaded that  no  other  nation  on  earth  could  possibly 
have  achieved  the  British  Empire.  I  think  it  is  the 
most  magnificent  dream,  concreted  and  realized  and 
materialized  in  the  solid  and  glittering  marble  of 
fact,  that  the  world  has  ever  known.  It  is  the  most 
supreme  political  achievement  in  the  history  of 
humanity,  and  I  realized  that  truth  whqti  I  went  to  India 


228  MY    INDIAN    TOUR' 

and  when  I  grasped  the  fact  that,  like  a  bubble  of 
snowy  foam  upon  the  purple  ocean,  we,  a  mere  handful 
of  white  men  and  women,  rest  upon  the  heaving  waves 
of  an  ocean  of  three  hundred  millions  of  dusky  natives 
and  keep  them  in  absolute  subjection.  And  it  is  mar- 
vellous the  free-and-easy,  happy-go-lucky  method  by 
which,  without  pedantry  or  undue  effort  or  anxiety,  and 
almost  always  with  absolute  justice  and  a  keen  sense  of 
fair  play,  we  rule  these  seething  millions  and  keep  the 
peace,  not  only  between  them  and  ourselves  but  between 
the  warlike  Sikhs  and  Pathans,  the  proud  Rajputs, 
Mohammedans,  and  Hindoos,  the  hill  tribes,  the  pusil- 
lanimous Bengalis,  and  the  gentle  Madrassis.  I  used 
sometimes  in  my  ignorance  to  be  annoyed  with  the  hasty 
young  subaltern  who  would  treat  his  servant  as  though 
he  were  not  a  human  being  at  all,  but  I  speedily 
realized  that  the  young  man  knew  how  to  tackle  the 
native  mind  better  than  I  did.  You  may  take  my  word 
for  it  that  in  India  and  in  South  Africa,  where  the  blaak 
man  is  in  overwhelming  superiority  of  numbers  to  the 
white,  the  present  attitude  of  the  white  man  towards  the 
black  is  the  only  possible  one.  Of  course  the  Labour 
Party  in  England,  most  of  whom  have  never  travelled 
outside  the  confines  of  their  own  country,  will  be  up  in 
arms  at  such  a  statement,  but  my  own  feeling  is  that 
the  travelled  Englishman,  the  Anglo-Indian,  or  the 
European  resident  in  South  Africa  is  far  more  likely  to 
understand  these  matters  than  the  untravelled  Cockney 
or  the  mere  globe-trotter.  A  vast  amount  of  silly  rot  is 
talked  in  England  about  the  black  man  being,  what 
Dr.  Clifford  calls  him,  a  man  and  a  brother,  but  how 
about  having  him  for  a  brother-in-law?  That  is  where 
the  crux  comes  in,  though  I  don't  suppose  Dr.  Clifford 
or  the  Labour  Members  would  resent  his  appearing  in 
that   relation   to   them   also.      It    is  only   the  man   who 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  229 

knows   what   the   black   man  is    in   the   mass   who   can 
really   come    to    a    right,   a    fair,    a    common-sense   and 
level-headed  decision  on  such  a  complicated   question. 
Just    before    I     went    to     India     Mr.     Keir    Hardie 
had    startled     and  •  infuriated     the     whole     of     Anglo- 
India,    and   had   disconcerted   even    the    famous    native 
Nationalists,  by  declaring  at  a  meeting  of  coolies  that 
he   at    home    was    himself   a    coolie,    thinking,    foolish 
man   that   he   was,    that   that    statement   would   especi- 
ally appeal  to  his  hearers,  who  were,  instead,  horrified, 
furious,  and  disgusted  to  think  that  a  mere  coolie  like 
themselves  should  have  the  supreme  impertinence  to  tell 
them  what  they  ought  to  do.     Keir  Hardie  is  the  very 
man  to  wreck  an  Empire,  and  all  through  sheer  ignor- 
ance.     How  different   is   the  conduct   of  such  a   futile 
and  inexperienced  person  from  the  life  and  work  and 
bearing  of  a  high-class  English  civil  or  military  official 
in  India'  !    I  saw  a  great  deal  of  the  inner  lives  and  work 
and  methods  of  Residents,  Commissioners,  Lieutenant- 
Governors,  Collectors,  and  the  like  w-hilst  on  my  Indian 
tour,  and  I  was  enormously  impressed  by  the  fact  that 
the  greatest  factor  in  the  government   of  India  is  the 
character    of    the    British    officials.      Justice,    fair-play, 
rigid  self-control,  and  sympathy  and  imagination— those 
are  the  factors  that  have,  more  than  anything  else,  con- 
tributed to  the  moral  and  spiritual  elevation  of  the  vast 
Indian  masses.     It  is  a  wonderful  thing  for  an  Oriental 
people  to  be  certain  of  justice,   and  it   is  a  wonderful 
thing  for  them  to  have  some  one  above  them  to  whom 
they  can  go  for  help  and  advice  and,  above  all,  for  a 
lead.     That  is  what  natives  always  value  and  appreciate     , 
more   than   anything  else.      When   some   of  our   stupid 
and  ignorant  stay-at-home  Little  Englanders  argue  that 
we  should  abandon  India  or  give  it  up  to  native  rule,  I 
always  argue  in  return  that  the  natives  of  India  are,  like 


230  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

the  natives  of  West  Africa,  mere  children  so  far  as  the 
capacity  for  self-government  is  concerned.  We  all 
know  how  English  children  appreciate  the  companion- 
ship and  leadership  of  a  grown-up  person  in  their  games, 
and  we  know  how  all  interest  and  pleasure  in  their  game 
ceases  at  once  when  the  grown-up  takes  out  his  watch 
and  declares  he  must  run  away.  The  children  imme- 
diately become  dispirited  and  lose  all  pleasure  and 
interest  in  the  game,  which  shortly  after  collapses  alto- 
gether. And  that  is  exactly  what  would  happen  in  India 
if  we  English  quitted  the  country  bag  and  baggage. 
In  twenty  years'  time  India  would  be  worse  off  than  it 
was  in  the  days  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  because  in  those 
days,  at  all  events,  they  did  possess  their  great 
Emperors  Aurungzebed  and  Shah  Jehan  and  other 
famous  rulers,  who  kept  things  together.  But  nowadays 
there  would  be  no  one  to  take  the  lead  and  chaos  would 
be  inevitable.  India  would  immediately  become  a  hot- 
bed of  dissension,  the  battle-ground  and  the  cockpit 
of    Asia. 

But  what  appealed  to  me  so  much  in  my  glimpses 
of  Anglo -Indian  life  was  the  lofty  ideal  that  our  officials 
and  their  wives  consistently  set  up  before  them.  Each 
individual  Englishman  and  each  English  individual 
appeared  to  me  to  be  possessed,  much  more  than  is 
ordinarily  the  case  here  at  home,  of  the  importance  of 
a  guiding  principle  in  life  and  an  amazingly  strong 
sense  of  responsibility. 

I  remember  once  I  put  up  for  the  night  with  a 
young  Forest  officer  far  away  in  the  wilds  of  the 
Himalayas.  We  were  absolutely  alone,  in  a  very 
shabby  and  ill-furnished,  rickety  old  bungalow,  and 
the  heat  was  overpowering — iio  in  the  shade, 
more  than  I  can  endure  to  think  of.  But  my  youthful 
host  came  down  to  our  scanty  meal  in  the  most  correct 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  231 

of  evening  attire,  and  on  my  remarking  upon  it  and 
his  splendid  pluck  upon  putting  on  a  stiff  white  iron- 
clad shirt,  with  those  appalling  cuffs  and  still  more 
awful  collars,  of  the  horrors  of  which  you  can  have 
no  conception  until  you  wear  them  in  an  atmosphere 
of  lie  in  the  shade,  he  replied:  "Yes,  I  never  see 
an  Englishman  for  months  at  a  stretch  and  I  haven't 
set  eyes  on  a  white  woman  for  two  years,  but  I  always 
dress  because  it  seems  to  keep  me  in  touch  with  the 
old  home,  and  it  keeps  me  from  getting  slack."  As 
he  spoke  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning  illumined  the  poor 
room  and  lit  up  his  thin  face,  worn  with  fever  and 
suffering,  and  the  wretched  bungalow  shook  beneath 
the  onslaught  of  the  great  storm  ;  but  his  words  have 
never  faded  from  my  memory,  "  to  keep  in  touch 
with  the  old  home  and  to  keep  me  from  getting 
slack." 

That  is  the  sublime  secret  of  the  Englishman  in 
India. 

Another  thing  that  appealed  to  me  very  much,  though 
I  quite  realize  that  many  will  not  agree  with  me,  and 
that  is  the  honesty  and  the  charm  and  the  pleasant 
demeanour  of  the  native  servants.  I  was  always 
interested  in  them,  though  I  frankly  acknowledge  that, 
in  common  with  Anglo-Indians  generally,  I  preferred 
a  heathen  servant  to  a  Christian  convert.  Somehow 
or  another  the  Christian  converts — East  and  West  also, 
I  am  told — acquire  all  the  vices  and  very  few  of  the 
virtues  of  their  Christian  masters,  and  drunkenness, 
thieving,  and  immorality  are  rife  amongst  the  native 
Christian  servants. 

I  was  hugely  delighted  and  amused  once,  though. 
I  had  been  staying  with  a  certain  general  officer,  and 
on  the  morning  of  my  departure — very  early  it  was, 
too — I    found   all    the   servants    drawn   up   in   a   line   as 


232  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

I  stepped  into  the  car  that  was  waiting  to  take  me 
to  the  station.  The  servants,  whom  I  had  well  tipped, 
all  salaamed  profusely,  and  just  before  I  stepped  off 
the  veranda  the  venerable,  white -bearded,  turbaned 
khitmutgar,  looking  like  one  of  the  patriarchs  in  the 
Bible,  stood  forward  from  the  rest,  and,  raising  his 
hands  aloft  in  the  attitude  of  a  Greek  archimandrite 
pronouncing  the  blessing,  he  solemnly  declaimed  in 
English  the  priestly  dismissal  to  the  congregation  : 
*'  The  peace  of  God  which  passeth  all  understanding 
keep  your  hearts  and  minds  in  the  knowledge  and  love 
of  God  and  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  And  the  blessing 
of  God  Almighty,  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy 
Ghost,  be  upon  you  and  remain  with  you  always. 
Amen." 

One  feature  of  Anglo -Indian  life  which  impressed 
me  enormously  was  the  very  important  part  that  the 
Station  Club  plays  in  the  life  of  the  English  residents. 
Each  great  cantonment,  each  leading  station  possesses 
its  own  club,  to  which  men  and  women  alike  belong 
and  wherein  all  the  chief  social  festivities  of  the  com- 
munity take  place.  Well-accredited  visitors  are  almost 
always  hospitably  entertained  in  these  delightful  clubs, 
many  of  which  have  become  famous  throughout  thle 
whole  civilized  world.  Who  is  there,  for  instance,  who 
has  not  heard  of  that  beautiful  club  the  Byculla  Club 
in  Bombay,  or  the  Yacht  Club  in  the  same  city,  or  the 
Saturday  Club  in  Calcutta?  In  certain  cities  and 
stations  natives,  no  matter  how  high  their  degree,  are 
not  admitted  within  the  walls  of  these  clubs,  they  being 
reserved  entirely  for  white  people,  a  proceeding  which 
invariably  excites  the  blazing  wrath  of  ignorant  globe- 
trotters and  violent  Radicals,  such  as  Dr.  Clifford  or 
Ramsay  Macdonald  or  the  ineffable  Keir  Hardie.  And 
yet,  of  course,  when  I  went  into  the  question  I   found 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  ■       [233 

that,  as  usual,  there  was  good  and  ample  reason  and 
ground  for  the  regulations,  hard  as  they  might  appear  to 
the  violent  Little  Englander  and  the  ignorant  pro-native. 
The  truth  is  that  the  white  people  feel  they  must  have 
a  common  meeting -ground  where  they  can  forgather 
without  the  native  looking  on.  If  they  were  to  break 
that  rule,  in  Bombay  at  all  events,  their  clubs  would 
be  swamped  with  the  advent  of  the  coloured  man,  who 
is  as  twenty  to  one.  But  I  need  scarcely  say  the  rule 
gives  great  offence  to  some  of  the  leading  native  resi- 
dents in  Bombay.  I  remember  once  I  had  been  lunch- 
ing with  some  very  distinguished  natives  of  Bombay 
—a  great  merchant  and  his  wife — Sir  and  Lady  So- 
and-So,  and  after  luncheon  my  hostess  offered  to  drive 
me  down  town  in  her  car.  I  asked  her  to  drop  me 
at  the  Yacht  Club,  and  when  we  arrived  there,  not 
knowing  of  the  stringent  rule  against  the  admission 
of  all  natives,  I  asked  Lady  So-and-So  if  she 
would  come  in  and  have  tea  on  the  lawn.  To  my 
astonishment  she  replied  with  great  indignation, 
"  Oh,  Mr.  Capper,  we  natives  are  not  allowed  to 
enter  the  Yacht  Club  1  Don't  you  think  it  is  dis- 
graceful? " 

I  replied  that  I  should  like  to  hear  the  other  side 
first  before  I  gave  an  opinion,  upon  which,  remark- 
ing that  when  she  was  in  England  she  and  her  husband 
always  stayed  at  Windsor  with  the  King  and  Queen 
and  that  people  Uke  Dr.  Clifford  and  others  deeply 
sympathized  with  the  natives  in  the  matter  and  that 
she  was  very  sorry  I  didn't,  and  she  supposed  I  was 
as  bad  as  the  rest  of  my  countrymen,  and  especially 
my  countrywomen,  she  drove  off  in  high  dudgeon. 
Happening  to  relate  this  incident  to  a  friend  at 
dinner  that  night,  he  replied:  "It  is  curious  you 
should  tell  this  to  me,  for  I  hold  very  strong  opinions 


234  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

on  the  matter.  I  am  secretary,"  he  went  on,  "of 
such-and-such  a  club  " — mentioning  a  very  dis- 
tinguished club — "  and  a  few  years  ago  I  received 
a  letter  from  the  Governor,  in  which  he  said  : — 

"  Mv   DEAR   , 


I  shall  be  very  much  obliged  if  you  will  elect  my  friend  Prince 
So-and-So  (naming  a  famous  Indian  Prince  well  known  in  England) 
as  an  honorary  member  of  the  Club, 

"  To   which   I    promptly   replied  : — 

"  Mv  DEAR  Lord  


I  shall  be  delighted  to  comply  with  your  Excellency's  request, 
but  only  on  condition  that  Prince  So-and-So  comes  to  the  Club 
in  his  bare  feet  and  with  his  turban  on,  and  that  he  waits  at 
table  with  the  rest  of  his  countrymen." 

It  was  at  these  clubs,  especially  up-country,  that 
I  gave  most  of  my  performances,  and  as  I  appeared 
at  all  of  them  almost  without  exception,  and  as  they 
were  always  thronged  at  my  receptions,  I  think  I  may 
claim  to  have  obtained  such  a  universal  glimpse  of 
Anglo-Indian  club  life  as  can  have  been  vouchsafed 
to  very  few  even  of  the  oldest  residents.  Many  of 
my  readers  will  recall  for  themselves  the  charm  of  an 
afternoon  and  evening  at  the  famous  Bombay  Yacht 
Club,  the  lawn  whereon  so  many  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished people  of  the  earth  have  walked  and  chatted 
during  the  last  thirty  years  ;  the  assemblage  of  de- 
lightful people — and  I  ajways  think  that  the  Anglo- 
Indian  is  amongst  the  most  cultivated  and  the  most 
charming  of  his  kind,  both  he  and  his  wife,  to  whom, 
by  the  by,  he  is  as  a  rule,  despite  silly  novels  to  the 
contrary,  absolutely  devoted — the  band  sending  out  its 
strains  of  music  over  the  glittering  waters  of  the  Indian 
Ocean,    and    then    the    gorgeous    sunset    and    the   swift 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  235 

descent  of  the  purple,  star-spangled  Indian  night  and 
the  rising  in  its  golden  splendour  of  the  Eastern  moon, 
whilst  masses  of  white  cumulus  clouds  climb  slowly 
over  the  distant  mountains  and  float  in  stately  and 
gorgeous  procession  across  that  wondrous  arch  of  indigo 
blue.  Some  of  the  most  exquisite  moments  of  my 
life,  and  certainly  of  my  delightful  visit  to  India,  were 
spent  upon  the  lawn  of  the  Bombay  Yacht  Club. 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

MY   INDIAN   TOVR— (Continued) 

Amongst  the  most  delightful  of  my  Indian  memories 
is  my  tonga  ride  up  to  Simla  from  Kalka  in  the  plains, 
which  used  to  be  the  railhead  of  one  of  the  great  rail- 
ways. I  purposely  went  up  by  tonga  in  preference 
to  the  rail  for  the  sheer  charm  and  romance  of  the 
journey.  I  started  quite  early  in  the  morning,  about 
five,  and  we  rattled  up  the  foothills  of  the  Himalayas 
in  grand  style.  The  foliage,  and  especially  the  rhodo- 
dendrons, was  exquisite,  and  as  we  buried  ourselves 
deeper  and  deeper  in  the  mountains  and  climbed  higher 
and  higher  I  was  enormously  fascinated  by  the  splendid 
spectacle  of  great  eagles  wheeUng  and  turning  and 
screaming  in  the  unclouded  blue  far  above  our  heads. 
We  stopped  for  late  breakfast  at  the  dak  bungalow  at 
Solon,  and  as  I  waited  for  my  meal  whilst  the  house- 
keeper chased  a  screaming  murghl,  or  chicken,  which  I 
felt  a  presentiment,  which  was  speedily  fulfilled,  would 
serve  as  midday  curry,  round  the  withered  little  com- 
pound, I  caught  a  glimpse  of  soldiers  miles  away,  and  far 
above  my  head,  heliographing  to  a  distant  station,  the 
signals  in  a  secret  code  flashing  and  glittering  in  the 
brilliant  Indian  sun.  The  dak  bungalow  resembled  all 
others  of  its  class  in  India.  They  are  curious  places,  and 
many  of  them  are  said  to  be  haunted,  and  doubtless 
some  of  the  very  old  ones  could  tell  some  vivid  stories 

of    Anglo-Indian    life    during    the    last    century    which 

236 


MY    INDIAN,    TOUR'  237 

would   out -Kipling    Kipling   himself  ;     but   to   me   they 
appeared  to  be  prosaic  and  humdrum  enough,  though 
some  of  them  were  situated  in  the  middle  of  scenery 
exquisite  enough  to  enthral  a  connoisseur  even  of  the 
Italian    Lakes.     As    I    proceeded    up    to    Simla,    after 
passing   Solon,   I    encountered   a   cavalcade   of   Afghan 
merchants,      and      fine,      picturesque,      biblical-looking 
fellows     they     were,     too,     almost    exactly    like    those 
who  composed  that  very  highly  coloured  cavalcade  in 
"  Joseph  and  His  Brethren  "  at  His  Majesty's  Theatre 
a  year  or  so  back.     Just  as  they  passed  me  they  came 
to    a    halt    by    the    wayside,    some    thirty   or    forty   of 
them  in  all,  and  their  poor,  wearied  camels  lay  dovra 
to  rest.      The  scene  was   worthy  of  an  artist's  pencil. 
There  far  above  us   towered   those  magnificent  moun- 
tains,  though  we  were   still   something  like  a  hundred 
miles  away  from  the  snows,  and  the  road  over  which 
I   had  driven  wound   its   way  up   the  hills  like  a  huge 
boa-constrictor,  a  magnificent  piece  of  engineering,  with 
vast  precipices  on  the  one  side  and  the  mountain-side 
upon  the  other.      And  over  the  hills  there  brooded  a 
strange   stillness,   such  as   you   can   only  obtain   in  the 
mountains,  a  veritable  peace  of  God,  a  stillness  which 
was  only  broken  now  and  again  by  the  loud  grunting 
and   screaming   of   some   angry   camel  or   the   barking 
of   a   dog  or   the   splendid   metallic   cry   of   a   kite   far 
above  our  heads   in   the  blue  ether,   a  very  impressive 
stillness.     The  Afghan  traders  weren't  in  the  least  im- 
pressed by   the   intense   beauty   of   the   scene,   but  they 
were  enormously  interested  when  I  took  out  my  pouch 
and  offered   them  some   tobacco,   and   especially    when 
I  filled  up  my  own  pipe  and  began  to  smoke.     Arrived 
in  Simla,  which  we  did  an  hour  or  two   later,   let   us 
say  at  four  in  the  afternoon,   I   drove  to  a  delightful 
hotel,   the   very   name   of   which    I    forget,    though   the 


238  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

memory  of   the  cuisine   there  is  quite  ineradicable,  for 
the    simple    reason    that,    as    far    as    it    went,    which 
is  saying  a  good  deal,  I  may  add,  it  was  almost  the  best 
I  have  ever  encountered  at  any  hotel,  whether  English, 
continental,  or  Indian.     I  loved  Simla,  with  its  splendid 
drive    round    Jakko    and    its    countless    beautiful    villas 
and   private    houses   and    lovely    gardens    dotted   about 
those    enchanting    hills  ;     and    can    I    ever    forget    that 
scented    air,    a   mingling    of    the    sweet    breath    of    the 
pine-trees    and    the    breezes    fresh    from    the    snowclad 
slopes  fifty  or  a  hundred  miles  away?     I  gave  my  per- 
formance in  the  beautiful  theatre  of  the  Simla  Amateur 
Dramatic    Company,    perhaps    the    most    famous    com- 
pany of  amateurs   in   the  world,   the  same  company  in 
which  that  beautiful  and  very  accomplished  actress  Miss 
Darragh  graduated  when  she  was  living  in  Simla  with 
her  husband,   who,   I    think,   was  a  military  member  of 
the    Viceregal    Staff.      My    performance,    I    may    here 
mention,  was  the  first  and  only  professional  entertain- 
ment   that    has    ever    been    given    within    the    walls    of 
that  theatre,   and   it   was  attended   by  the  Viceroy  and 
poor    Lady    Hardinge    and    the    whole    of    their    Staff. 
I   thoroughly  enjoyed  my  evening  there,  but  in  certain 
respects,    owing    to    the    style   of    building    in    which    it 
took   place,    it   was   an   extremely   difficult   performance 
to  carry  through.      You  see,  the  theatre,  charming  and 
dainty,    a   veritable    bijou    theatre,   was    so    much    of   a 
bandbox  and  the  space  was  so  confined  that  I   experi- 
enced enormous  difficulty  in  getting  about  as  I  rushed 
up   and   down   the  stalls  and   in   and  out  of  the  boxes 
and    dress-circle,     etc.       Nevertheless,     owing    to    the 
general  interest  that  was  manifested  in  my  doings  and 
to  the  real  intellectuality  of  the  majority  of  my  auditors, 
I    can    honestly    say    everything    passed    off    to    perfec- 
tion.     Being  a  great  reader  of  Kipling's  Indian  tales, 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  239 

I  was  naturally  very  interested  in  a  place  which,  until 
he  published  "  Plain  Tales  from  the  Hills,"  was  prac- 
tically unknown  to  the  untravelled  Englishman.  The 
whole  life  of  Simla  appealed  to  me  wonderfully. 
Despite  its  apparent  light-hearted  frivolity,  the  keen 
observer  quickly  discerns  the  undertone  of  seriousness 
that  lies  beneath  the  whole  of  Anglo-Indian  life. 
Annandale  and  its  races  and  gymkhanas  and  polo 
matches  loom  large  in  the  pleasure  life  of  the  gay  and 
strenuous  inhabitants  of  the  famous  hill  station,  but 
one  is  conscious  all  the  time  of  the  deep  diapason  which 
is  ever  sounding  in  the  great  orchestra  of  Anglo- 
Indian  life,  and  one  remembers  that  it  is  mainly  in 
Simla  that  the  government  of  three  hundred  million 
people  is  so  faithfully  carried  out  by  the  Viceroy  and 
his  chosen  assistants. 

I  have  never  seen  or  known  people  to  enjioy  them- 
selves as  tremendously  and  whole-heartedly  as  they 
do  in  Simla,  but  at  the  same  time  I  have  never  known 
people  work  so  strenuously  as  they  do,  either  there  or 
in  India  generally.  And  another  thing  that  appealed 
to  me  enormously,  though  I  am  not  what  you  may 
describe  as  a  sportsman,  was  the  fact  that  the 
majority  of  Anglo-Indians  are  keen  on  sport  of  every 
description  and  adepts  at  all  games.  Even  the  brilliant 
Civil  Servants  of  India,  men  who  may  have  taken 
honours  at  Balliol — even  they  as  a  rule  are  fine  sports- 
men, and  that  has  meant  so  much  in  the  government 
of  this  great  country  and  for  several  reasons.  In  the 
first  place  sport  and  the  habit  of  nature  and  the  open 
air  and  the  study  of  birds  and  beasts  train  a  man 
to  be  observant  ;  they  fire  his  sympathy  and  insight, 
and  they  cultivate  the  habits  of  self-restraint  and  self- 
control,  and  above  all,  more  than  anything  else,  they 
help  a  man  to  know  his   fellow-men  and  to  become  a 


240  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

leader  of  men.  It  is  the  sporting  Viceroy  and  Com- 
mander-in-Chief and  Lieutenant-Governor  and  Resi- 
dent and  Commissioner,  who  really  in  the  end  wields 
the  most  influence  over  the  great  Indian  princes,  who  for 
long  centuries  have  themselves  been  sportsmen  to  a 
man.  Well,  most  Anglo-Indians,  civil  as  well  as  military, 
are  not  only  first-class  in  their  work,  but  they  are 
also  first-class  in  their  sport  and  games.  Take  them 
as  a  class,  I  have  never  come  across  a  finer  set  of 
men,  intellectually,  physically,  and  athletically  than  I 
encountered  amongst  the  English  official  classes  in 
India,  and  I  saw  a  very  vast  number  of  them  all  over 
that  enormous  peninsula. 

And  of  their  women  what  shall  I  say?  What  praise 
is  too  great  for  them?  How  can  we  appraise  too 
highly  their  value  in  that  wonderful  land?  I  am 
convinced  that  as  a  rule  the  typical  Mem-Sahib,  for 
all  her  limitations  and  shortcomings,  which  are  doubt- 
less very  many,  is  nevertheless  one  of  the  great,  if 
often  unseen  and  unrecognized,  forces  that  make  for 
righteousness  in  a  land  which  of  old  was  given  up  to 
much  that  was  absolutely  unrighteous  and  hideously 
tyrannical  and  evil.  I  am  sure  my  readers  will  pardon 
my  enthusiasm,  though  some  of  them  will  smile  when 
they  realize  that  I  spent  only  about  eight  months  in 
India  altogether,  and  that  therefore  I  cannot  pretend 
to  anything  but  the  most  cursory  knowledge  of  that 
wonderful  type  of  man,  that  finest  of  all  the  Britishers, 
the  Anglo-Indian  official.  They  are  what  I  regard 
as  real  builders  and  pillars  of  Empire.  Many  of 
them  work  unknown  and  unnoticed  all  their  lives,  but 
their  work  is  almost  invariably  the  best  of  its  kind, 
and  in  time  there  soars  into  the  air,  to  regard  their 
efforts  from  a  purely  metaphorical  point  of  view,  the 
glittering    temple    upon    which    these    men    have    been 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  241 

quietly  and  laboriously  labouring  all  their  lives.  All 
have  contributed  to  its  beauty,  all  are  responsible  for 
its  use  and  stateliness,  and  every  single  brick  wrought 
by  every  single  man  goes  towards  the  perfect  completed 
whole. 

It  was  their  tremendous  sincerity  and  loyalty  to  the 
Imperial  ideal  and  their  patient,  painstaking  labour 
which  so  appealed  to  me  whenever  I  was  brought 
into  actual  contact  with  the  Anglo-Indian  official.  There 
is  no  previous  imagination  or  effort  or  endeavour  of 
man  which  has  ever  surpassed  in  daringness  of  con- 
ception and  in  its  magnificent  accomplishment  the  work 
of  the  English  soldier  and  civilian  in  the  building  up 
and  the  maintenance  of  the  Empire  of  India. 

Somehow  or  another  a  totally  wrong  impression  as 
to  the  style  and  character  of  my  performances  was 
prevalent  in  India  when  I  first  appeared  there.  People 
were  under  the  impression,  as  indeed  they  very  often 
are  under  the  impression  here  in  England,  that  I 
have  but  to  look  at  a  person  and  all  the  most  secret 
thoughts  of  a  guilty  conscience  become  manifest  to  me 
in  a  moment  of  time.  Nothing,  however,  could  be 
farther  from  the  truth.  It  is  only  under  certain  cir- 
cumstances, and  accompanied  by  certain  conditions 
that  when  an  article  has  been  hidden  or  a  certain 
object  has  been  fixed  upon  I  am  enabled,  through 
the  help  of  any  casual  medium,  chosen  haphazard  often 
from  an  audience  of  strangers,  to  discover  and  reveal 
the  hidden  article.  I  cannot  read  people's  thoughts 
any  more  than  you  can,  and  I  am  jolly  glad  of  it — a 
most  uncanny  and  uncomfortable  gift,  and  one  I  have 
no  desire  to  possess  or  intention  of  acquiring.  How- 
ever that  may  be,  many  people  in  India  were  under 
the  impression  that  I  was  one  of  those  mysterious  people 
to  whom,  if  I  may  say  it  without  irreverence,  all  hearts 

17 


242  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

are  open,  and  from  whom  no  secrets  are  hidden  ;  but 
I  am  not.  The  Indian  police,  especially  the  native 
police,  hailed  me  as  a  kind  of  Sherlock  Holmes,  and 
no  sooner  had  I  set  foot  in  Poona  than  a  deputation 
of  them  waited  on  me  to  ask  my  help  in  a  certain 
very  important  jewellery  robbery.  I  need  scarcely  say 
1  sent  them  about  their  business  at  once.  But  a  very 
curious  case   really   did  occur  a  few  days   later. 

I  was  giving  a  performance  in  Jhansi.  Now  at  the 
time  of  my  first  appearances  in  India  the  Durbar  was 
in  full  preparation,  and  Jhansi  was  very  empty  in 
consequence,  most  of  the  civil  and  military  officials 
and  nearly  all  the  ladies  having  gone  to  Delhi.  Never- 
theless I  had  a  capital  audience  at  the  Jhansi  Club, 
although  there  were  not  more  than  five  or  six  ladies 
present.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  first  part  of  the 
performance  I  announced  that  there  would  be  an 
interval  of  five  minutes,  an'd  that  during  the  second 
part  of  the  performance  I  trusted  that  some  members 
of  the  audience,  and  specially  ladies,  would  come  up 
on  the  platform  and  help  me  with  my  performance 
as  usual.  Scarcely  were  the  words  out  of  my  mouth 
when  a  lady  in  the  body  of  the  hall  got  up  and  went 
very  swiftly  out  of  the  room,  called  her  gharry,  and 
drove  furiously  off.  I  was  much  astonished,  and  I 
said  to  the  Babu  steward  :  "  That's  a  queer  lady  ;  she 
looked  very  much  agitated  ;  I  have  never  had  such  a 
strange  thing   happen   to  me  before." 

"  Yes,  sail,"  replied  the  steward,  "  and  that  lady 
very  agitated,  and  I  will  tell  you  why,  sah.  We  all 
believe   she    is    a   murderess  !  " 

"  A  murderess  !  "  I  cried  in  horror.  "  You  must 
be    joking  !  " 

"  No,  sah,  not  joking,  speaking  truth  solemnly  as 
in    presence    of   my    Maker,    who    sees    all   hearts    and 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  243 

tries  all  men.  A  few  weeks  ago,  sah,  Miss  Garnett- 
Orme,  a  lady  living  here,  died  very  suddenly,  and 
under  very  suspicious  circumstances  of  being  poisoned, 
and  finger  of  God  and  finger  of  fate  pointing  towards 
that  lady  who  left  the  room  just  now.  She  very 
frightened,  because  you  great  thought-reader,  and 
she  thinking  you  read  the  dark  secrets  of  her  black 
heart." 

Well,  I  gave  my  performance,  passed  away  from 
Jhansi,  and  forgot  all  about  the  aff^air  until  chance 
brought  it  up  to  me  one  day  in  Lucknow  some  weeks 
later  on.  I  had  just  finished  my  first  performance 
at  the  Club  there  when  up  came  Mr.  Douglas  Straight, 
a  son  of  Sir  Douglas  Straight,  who  used  to  be  a 
judge  in  Allahabad,  but  who  subsequently  became  editor 
of  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette  ;  well,  this  Mr.  Straight  was 
chief  of  the  Lucknow  Police,  and  he  at  once  said  to 
me  :  "  Mr.  Capper,  your  performance  is  marvellous. 
I  am  very  anxious  to  consult  you  on  a  most  important 
matter.      Come   and   have   tiffin   with   me    to-morrow." 

Well,  I  promised  I  would,  and  next  morning  at 
breakfast  I  said  to  my  dear  friend  and  host,  Alexander 
Watson  :  "  I  am  lunching  with  Mr.  Douglas  Straight 
to-day;  he  says  he  wants  to  speak  to  me  on  a  most 
important   matter." 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  said  Watson,  "  I  begin  to  smell  a  rat. 
I  bet  you  a  gTiinea  it's  about  Miss  Garnett-Orme's 
death.     There  is  a  certain  Mrs.  under  suspicion," 

"  Why,  I  know  all  about  it  and  her  !  "  I  excitedly 
cried.  "  She  fled  from  one  of  my  thought-reading 
entertainments  only  the  other  day  at  Jhansi  !  " 

"  Exactly,"  said  Watson.  "  Well,  you  old  Sherlock 
Holmes,  you  may  bet  your  boots  Douglas  Straight  wants 
your  help  and  opinion  on  the  matter." 

Well,  I  went  to  tiffin  with  the  Chief  of  Pohce,  and 


244  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

sure  enough  that  was  just  what  he  did  want  to  see 
me  about,  and  when  I  related  to  him  what  had  occurred 
at  Jhansi  he  was  immediately  pleased  and  excited.  He 
got    into    immediate    communication   with    the    steward 

of    the    Jhansi    Club,    and    very    soon    Mrs. was 

arrested  and  brought  to  Lucknow.  A  few  weeks  after- 
wards she  stood  her  trial  at  Allahabad.  The  evidence 
was  strongly  against  her,  but  not  quite  substantial 
enough  to  secure  her  conviction,  and  so  she  just  escaped 
by  the  skin  of  her  teeth.  But  the  case  and  my  con- 
nection with  it,  my  having  been  the  chief  cause  of 
her  arrest,  greatly  interested  people  in  my  performances 
all  over  India,  and  thenceforward  my  entertainments 
were,    as    a    rule,   packed   to    overflowing. 

It  was  at  Ootacamund  that  I  met  the  most  extra- 
ordinary human  freak  I  had  ever  even  imagined  in  a 
dream.  His  name  was  Arumugam,  a  Salia  by  caste, 
and  a  native  of  Sriviliputhur  of  the  Tinnerelly  dis- 
trict in  Madras.  He  was  eighteen  years  of  age,  quite 
uneducated,  but  possessed  of  the  most  marvellous 
powers  of  calculation  that  it  is  possible  to  imagine. 
It  is  reported  that  this  boy  was  wandering  in  the 
streets  of  Madura,  and  that  he  picked  up  a  living  from 
the  poor  people  in  the  neighbourhood,  of  whom  he 
begged  a  few  pice  from  time  to  time.  He  was  brought 
into  Ooty  by  a  Brahmin  and  brought  straight  to  me, 
though  his  performances  had  been  witnessed  by  many 
well-known  English  residents,  who  were  utterly  aghast 
at  his  miraculous  demonstrations,  and  who  were  anxious 
for  my  opinion  on  the  matter.  I  frankly  confess  I, 
too,  was  astounded  by  what  I  saw,  and  I  am  quite  cer- 
tain that  there  is  n,o  one  in  the  whole  world  who  could 
equal  his  powers  in  calculation.  One  of  his  great 
feats  was  his  mental  calculations  of  enormous  sums 
without  touching  paper,  and  all  done  in  his  head  with 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  245 

lightning  speed.  Hughes  and  I  tested  him  very 
severely,  and  subjoined  are  some  of  the  tests  to  which  we 
subjected  him.  He  gave  us  the  compound  interest  for 
any  amount  of  years,  at  any  rate,  without  mistaking 
even  in  fractions.  This  was  a  marvellous  feat  when 
we  reflect  that  he  had  never  received  any  education 
whatsoever  in  arithmetic,  and  that  he  was,  in  addition, 
half-witted,  with  twelve  fingers  on  his  hands  and  twelve 
toes  on  his  feet — an  absolute  freak,  mentally  and 
physically.  Here  is  one  of  the  sums  I  set  him  ;  he 
multiplied,  in  his  head  and  instantaneously,  this  sum  : — 

99926  X  23546 

62532  X  25992 

435806  X  234950. 

"  Now,"  I  said  to  him  through  the  Brahmin  who 
interpreted  for  me,  "  if  the  sum  of  £995  5s.  2d.  was 
invested  in  a  stock  which  brought  in  2|  per  cent, 
per  annum,  what  would  be  the  interest  due  at  the  end 
of  five  and  a  half  years?  "  And  he  gave  the  answer 
within  thirty  seconds  correct  to  a  farthing.  And 
this  was  a  simple  puzzle  for  him.  He  did  far  more 
intricate  problems  than  that,  and  in  my  presence  too. 

Many  people  prepared  the  most  stupendous  sums  for 
him,  and  he  would  do  them  straight  oft"  the  reel.  Once 
or  twice  people  would  declare  his  answer  was  wrong, 
and  that  it  differed  from  what  they  made  it,  but  it  was 
always  discovered  that  his  mental  calculation  was  correct 
and  that  their  paper  ones  were  wrong.  The  Brahmin 
who  brought  him  to  me  regretted  that  his  parents  had 
never  attempted  to  give  the  poor  boy  any  education 
whatever,  and  when  I  asked  him  how  he  accounted  for 
the  boy's  marvellous  gift,  he  replied  that  without  a 
doubt   it   was   to   be  attributed   to   the  divine  grace  or 


246  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

Kadaksham  of  Sri  Subramoniaswamy  at  Thrippura- 
kundram,  on  the  night  of  the  Karthigay  festival,  where 
he  had  gone  to  worship.  I  thought  little  or  nothing  of 
what  I  saw  of  the  famous  fakirs  of  India,  but  this  boy's 
accomplishments  and  achievements  left  me  breathless 
with  astonishment,  especially  bearing  in  mind  that 
otherwise   he    was   half   an   imbecile. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

MY    INDIAN   TOUR— (Con^mued) 

I  NEED  scarcely  say  that  I  immensely  enjoyed  my  visit 
to  Hyderabad,  mainly,  I  think,  because  it  is  a  purely 
native  State  and  I  there  beheld  the  India  of  at  least 
a  thousand  years  ago— India  un-Anglicized,  if  I  may 
so  term  it.  It  is  an  almost  impossible  place  for  a 
tourist  in  any  way  adequately  to  grasp  in  all  its  multi- 
tudinous aspects  and  its  innumerable  avatars  of  life, 
so  to  express  oneself.  I  didn't  even  begin  to  do  so, 
beyond  assuring  myself  that,  so  far  as  I  could  discern, 
it  is  mainly  Mohammedan. 

What  appealed  to  me  most,  however,  was  its  extra- 
ordinary suggestion  of  mystery  ;  every  house  appeared 
to  me  to  be  the  abiding-place  of  the  secret  and  the 
mysterious,  the  uncanny  and  the  unknown,  and  possibly 
even  the  unknowable.  One  was  possessed  all  the  time 
of  one's  progression  through  the  crowded  streets  of 
the  fascination  and  the  dream-like  bewilderment  of 
the  "Arabian  Nights."  Behind  those  mushrabieh 
shutters  what  mysterious  secrets  did  not  lurk' !  What 
were  the  hidden  lives  of  the  harems  of  the  great  nobles 
of  Hyderabad?  Whence  came  the  glittering  negro 
soldiers  of  the  Nizam?  What  great  political  intrigue 
was  not  being  carried  on  behind  the  pillared  entrances 
to  the  palaces  of  the  Nizam's  officers  of  state?  Even 
to-day  the  streets  of  Hyderabad  are  scarcely  safe  for 

the  Enghsh  tourist  to  wander  through  alone  ;   fanaticism 

247 


248  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

is  rife,  and  the  British  Raj  is  not  always  popular 
among  the  vast  and  heaving  populace  of  India  ; 
religious  animosities  and  political  rancours  and  caste 
prejudices,  every  single  one  of  which  is  absolutely 
ignored  or  entirely  unsuspected  by  the  ordinary  English 
tourist  who  goes  through  India  with  dull,  unreceptive 
mind  and  uninterested  and  unperceiving  gaze,  and  who 
therefore  misses  half  the  joy  and  mystery  and  delight 
and  wonder  of  Oriental  travel— all  these  things  tend  to 
an  immense  difficulty  on  the  part  of  the  authorities  to 
make  their  rule  equally  popular  amongst  the  myriad 
races  of  our  vast  Indian  Empire.  I  spent  several  days 
at  Hyderabad,  and  so  I  obtained  a  passing  glimpse, 
at  all  events,  and  at  least  a  hint  of  the  wondrous  fascina- 
tion of  a  primitive  life,  a  mediseval  life  which  still 
lingers  on  well  into  the  twentieth  century.  What  of 
course  most  appealed  to  me  in  Hyderabad,  as,  indeed, 
it  appealed  to  me  generally  throughout  India,  was  the 
exquisite  colouring  and  the  gorgeous  pageantry  of  the 
street  crowds  and  the  people  in  the  market-places  and 
ibazaars,  and  who  thronged  the  great  highways  of  our 
Eastern  Empire,  and  more  especially  the  exquisite 
Moorish  architecture,  which  ever  and  again  tosses  up 
into  the  air,  as  it  were,  a  snow-white  minaret  or  a  gold 
dome,  glittering  in  the  brilliant  sunshine  and  outlined 
clear  and  sharp  against  the  dazzling  azure  of  an  Indian 
sky.  Nor  can  I  forget  the  women  of  Northern  and 
Central  India  gathered  round  the  city  walls  at  sunset 
for  the  evening  gossip,  the  gossip  that  has  been  carried 
on  century  after  century  in  the  same  place  at  the  same 
hour  by  people  who  are  clad,  right  down  through  the 
ages,  in  the  selfsame  marvellous  greens  and  reds  and 
purples— Tyrrhenian  purples  such  as  the  men  of 
Solomon's  days  could  never  have  surpassed,  probably 
never    even   equalled — colours    of   the   most    exquisitely 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR'  249 

conceived  and  harmonized  type  that  it  is  possible  to 
imagine.  I  scarcely  realized  that  such  colours  were 
possible  until  I  had  seen  the  women  of  Hyderabad  and 
Delhi  gathered  round  the  parish  pump,  as  we  should 
style  it  here  at  home.  For  I  suppose  in  India  and  the 
East  generally  they  have  the  politics  of  the  parish 
pump  just  as  we  have  here  ;  and  even  in  the  Bible 
Jacob  wooed  Rachel  when  she  came  to  draw  water 
from  the  well  at  eventide  ;  and  it  was  at  the  wellside 
that  our  Saviour  sympathized  with  the  woman  of 
Samaria  who  gave  Him  to  drink.  The  life  of  Hydera- 
bad is  to-day  as  purely  primitive  and  biblical  and 
patriarchal  as  it  was  in  the  days  of  Abraham  ;  the 
EngHshman's  or  the  wealthy  nobleman's  motor-car  roars 
and  puffs  and  stinks  alongside  of  the  well,  and  the 
telephone  and  telegraph  wire  hums  above  the  heads 
of  those  who  draw  water  from  it,  as  their  ancestors  have 
daily  done  from  time  immemorial  ;  and  the  whistle 
of  the  locomotive  startles  the  sweet  sunset  calm,  but  the 
unchanging  Hfe  and  habit  of  the  village  well  still  holds 
good  to-day,  as  it  has  done  through  the  ages  for 
thousands  of  years. 

As  I  have  said,  the  streets  of  Hyderabad — as  do  the 
streets  of  all  the  great  cities  of  India — present  a  never- 
ceasing  pageant  and  procession  of  the  most  interesting 
and  most  colourful  people  in  the  world.  I  only  wish 
I  could  dissolve  and  disintegrate  them  as  by  a  chemical 
process,  but  my  ignorance  of  the  innumerable  nationali- 
ties that  composed  those  kaleidoscopic  and  cinemato- 
graphic crowds  prevents  my  even  attempting  so 
herculean  a  task.  I  first  made  my  progress  through 
the  streets  of  Hyderabad  in  a  very  delightful  manner, 
A  friend  of  mine  told  me  he  had  written  to  ask  if  the 
Nizam  would  kindly  provide  two  friends  of  his — the 
well-known  Mission  preacher,  the  Rev.   Paul  Bull,  and 


250  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

myself — with  the  services  of  one  of  the  state  elephants. 
Consequently,  at  the  place  and  at  the  hour  which  he  had 
suggested  in  his  letter  to  the  Nizam,  Mr.  Bull  and  I 
punctually  turned  up  for  our  ride,  and  there  to  our  joy 
we  found,  sure  enough,  a  magnificently  caparisoned 
elephant  apparently  awaiting  our  arrival.  We  quickly 
mounted  and  started  off  on  our  voyage  of  discovery, 
and  enormously  did  we  enjoy  the  wonderful  pageant. 

Hyderabad,  as  I  have  already  hinted,  is  a  great 
Mohammedan  stronghold,  and  it  contains  several 
mosques,  the  chief  of  which  is  knovni  as  the  Jama 
Masjid,  or  "  Cathedral  "  Mosque,  so  called  after  the  one 
at  Mecca,  from  which  it  is  designed.  It  is  a  magnificent 
building,  and  is  crowned  by  minarets  of  quite  extra- 
ordinary height.  There  I  saw,  as  I  passed  by,  vast 
crowds  of  the  male  inhabitants  of  the  place  engaged 
in  worship,  prostrating  themselves  at  stated  intervals, 
in  lengthy  lines,  and  with  the  most  marvellous  rhythmic 
unity,  chanting  at  the  same  time  the  splendid  prayers 
which  from  that  very  spot  have  assailed  the  Deity  for 
hundreds  of  years.  How  that  strong,  long-drawn-out 
invocation,  "  Allah- il- Allah!  "  rings  in  my  ears  even 
as  I  write,  as  also  does  the  early  morning  call  to  prayer 
of  the  Muezzins  from  the  minaret  towers  in  Cairo  at 
the  stated  hours.  Both  Mr.  Bull  and  myself  were 
deeply  interested  in  the  college  or  Char  Minar,  so  called 
from  its  four  minarets,  built  upon  four  grand  arches, 
at  which  the  four  principal  streets  of  the  city  meet. 
Above  are  several  stories  of  rooms,  and  formerly  each 
story  was  devoted  to  some  branch  of  study  or  science. 

And  all  the  time  the  elephant  was  slowly  and  grandly 
pushing  its  stately  way  through  that  palpitating  crowd, 
a  crowd  almost  beyond  the  belief  or  imagination  of 
Londoners,  both  for  its  density,  its  cosmopolitanism,  and 
its    exquisite    colouring.      At   one   moment    a   gorgeous 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  251 

wedding  procession  would  wend  its  way  through  the 
gaping  and  delighted  crowd,  heralded  by  the  most 
barbaric  music  one  could  think  of  outside  the  dim  and 
mystic  forests  of  Darkest  Africa  ;  or  it  would  be,  in 
stark  contrast,  a  dead  body  borne  upon  an  open  bier 
to  be  burned,  or,  rather,  scorched,  at  the  riverside  ere 
it  is  cast  to  the  crocodiles  ;  or  else  a  glittering  cavalry 
escort  would  come  clattering  down  behind  the  magnifi- 
cent equipage  of  one  of  the  native  nobles,  an  escort 
composed  of  men  whose  aquiline  features  and  proud 
and  fierce  bearing  and  richly  coloured  though  often 
very  tattered  costumes  rendered  them  subjects  fit  for 
the  brush  of  a  Reynolds  or  a  Velasquez.  Nothing  here 
in  the  streets  of  modern  life,  except  perhaps  yourself 
or  a  fellow-tourist  ;  nothing  to  suggest  that  these  are 
not  the  Middle  Ages,  sung  by  the  troubadour  and  but 
faintly  imagined  even  by  such  historians  as  Froude. 
and  J.   R.    Green   themselves. 

I  was  immensely  impressed  also  by  the  stately  manner 
in  which  the  British  Government  has  so  properly  housed 
the  British  Resident,  and  for  the  first  time,  apart  from 
what  I  had  seen  of  Vice- regal  life  in  Simla,  I  realized 
the  almost  regal  state  and  pomp  which  surround 
the  representative  of  the  English  Crown  in  these  great 
native  States.  The  Resident,  whoever  he  may  be,  rarely, 
or  never  drives  out  without  being  attended  by  a  cavalry 
escort,  which  clatters  down  behind  him  and  gives  him' 
an  air  of  regal  aloofness  which  must  be  painfully  con- 
trasted by  the  very  humble  life  that  awaits  him  on  his 
return  to  Kensington  or  Bayswater  when  his  term  of 
service  is  completed.  In  a  way,  nothing  is  more 
remarkable  than  the  extraordinary  position  to  which 
a  capable  and  a  hard-working  civilian  may  attain  in 
our  Indian  Empire  ;  but  again,  none  can  come  so 
quickly  down  to  earth  as  do  these  Government-elected 


252  MY    INDIAN    TOUR: 

princelets  when  their  official  life  is  over.  No  other 
country  in  the  world  can  present  such  a  complete 
bouleversement  in  the  lives  of  its  favoured  servants  ; 
still,  it  is  all  in  the  day's  work,  and  the  pension  is  a 
noble  one.  At  the  same  time,  I  am  bound  to  own 
it  is  thoroughly  well-deserved  and  earned.  These 
Lieutenant-Governors  and  British  Residents  and  Com- 
missioners and  Collectors  are  endowed,  it  is  true,  with 
enormous  state  and  pride  of  place,  but  you  must 
remember  that  their  responsibilities  are  at  times  almost 
beyond  behef.  They  rule — with  the  power  of  life  and 
death  often  enough — over  millions  of  people,  they  stand 
as  the  representatives  of  the  mightiest  Empire  the  world 
has  ever  known,  and  they  come  as  Ambassadors  from 
the  Chief  Ruler  of  the  Empire  to  the  great  Prince  to 
whose   State   they   are  especially  attached. 

Our  elephant-ride  had  a  somewhat  funny,  though 
at  the  time  a  rather  disconcerting,  finale  or  sequel  to 
it.  On  the  day  following  my  friend  turned  up  with 
a  very  ruffled  countenance. 

"  I  say,  you  fellows  did  make  a  bungle  of  it  y ester-, 
day.  That  elephant  wasn't  meant  for  you  at  all.  It 
was  intended  for  Prince  So-and-So.  He  lost  his  ride 
and  the   Nizam  is  awfully  vexed." 

"  Is  he?  "  said  I.  "  Well,  if  it  will  soothe  his  High- 
ness, he  may  be  glad  to  learn  that  we,  at  all  events, 
enjoyed  our  ride  more  than  we  have  enjoyed  anything 
else  during  our  whole  tour,  and  we  are  immensely 
obliged  to  him  for  his  kindness,  even  though  it  was 
intended  for  somebody  else.  At  the  same  time,  you 
must  assure  the  Nizam  that  our  mistake  was  the  mistake 
of  pure  innocence,  as  of  course  he  probably  realizes  well 
enough  by  now." 

I  was  immensely  interested  by  my  drive  out  to  the 
ancient    ruins    of    Golconda,    whence    came,    I    believe. 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR"  253 

the  far-famed  diamonds  which  have  excited  the  avarice 
and  imagination  of  millions  of  women  throughout  the 
ages.  I  saw  no  trace  of  the  mines  themselves,  so 
far  as  I  can  remember,  but  I  carry  away  a  wonderful 
memory  of  the  wide-spreading  ruins  of  an  old  city,  or 
a  castle  or  a  fort  which  constitute  all  that  now  remains 
of  the  once  marvellous  and  almost  mythical  city  of 
Golconda.  Specially  do  I  remember  catching  a  glimpse 
of  a  huge  cobra  sinuously  pursuing  its  swift  and  silent 
course  from  beneath  the  grey  ruins  and  over  the  burn- 
ing ground,  ground  that  literally  scorched  our  feet 
as  we  walked.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  believe  that 
Golconda  is,  as  it  were,  the  mother  city  of  Hyderabad, 
and  the  histories  of  the  two  cities  are  identical  since 
the  year  of  the  Spanish  Armada. 

Whilst  at  Hyderabad  I  drove  over  more  than  once 
to  give  my  entertainment  at  the  camp  at  Secunderabad 
and  Trimulgherry,  two  of  the  largest  as  well  as 
the  most  populous  and  popular  military  stations  in 
India. 

In  these  my  amiable  prattlings — for  of  course  they 
are  nothing  more — I  cannot  even  attempt  an  estimation 
of  the  character  and  qualities  of  the  varied  specimens 
of  the  native  that  I  encountered  in  my  tour  through 
India.  They  passed  before  me  like  the  glittering,  multi- 
tudinous, many-hued,  gorgeously  apparelled  crowd  of 
natives  in  a  painted  cinematograph  at  the  Scala  Theatre, 
a  gorgeous  phantasmagoria  of  the  "  Arabian  Nights  "  ; 
they  leave  upon  my  mind  the  dazzling  vision  of  the 
glories  of  another  world — that  is,  as  a  general  whole  ; 
but  here  and  there,  as  in  a  chemical  process,  one 
dissolves  and  disintegrates  the  masses  and  evolves  units, 
in  dissecting  which  one  is  enabled  to  arrive  at  a  kind 
of  summary  or  appreciation  of  the  whole.  Ex  pede 
Herculem,  ,       . 


254  MY    INDIAN     TOUR 

And  in  a  manner  I  was  able,  from  a  certain  amount 
of  personal  contact,  to  come  to  some  sort  of  an  opinion 
as  to  the  nature  and  qualities  of  the  Bengali  Babu, 
whom,  to  speak  frankly,  I  did  not  like. 

Pragmatical,  jealous,  difficult  to  please,  a  bad 
"  mixer,"  I  should  think,  even  with  his  own  special 
race,  and  of  course  abhorred  of  Sikhs,  Rajputs,  Pathans, 
or  Mohammedans,  very  pedantic,  sesquipedalian  in  his 
literary  or  oratorical  efforts,  much  inclined  to  insubor- 
dination towards  the  Government,  always  in  opposition 
to  the  authorities  that  be,  and  decidedly  disloyal  to 
the  British  flag — at  least,  that  is  the  opinion  at  which 
I  have  arrived  both  from  personal  observation  and 
from  much  that  I  heard  about  him  in  different  parts 
of  India.  The  modern  Babu  is,  to  a  great  extent,  a 
product  of  Macaulayanism,  if  I  may  coin  such  a  word 
to  designate  the  educational  system  inaugurated  by 
Lord  Macaulay  nearly  a  century  ago,  a  system  which 
has  certainly  resulted  in  a  class  of  native  that  has  not 
added  to  the  charm  of  Indian  life.  Have  you  ever  seen 
a  Babu's  letter?  Babu  English  is  of  course  proverbial, 
though  the  classic  instance  of  it  is  but  little  known  to 
the   untravelled   Englishman. 

Thirty  or  forty  years  ago  a  certain  Babu  gentle- 
man in  Calcutta  wrote  a  biography  of  his  friend  the 
Hon.  Mr.  Justice  Mukerjee,  and  here  is,  briefly  and 
very  vaguely,  so  far  as  I  can  remember,  the  manner  in 
which  he  described  the  judge's  death — indeed,  the  last 
two  sentences  are  practically  verbatim.  After  having 
gone  into  details  concerning  the  poor  man's  last  hours 
of  physical  weakness  and  decay,  such  details  as  would 
not  be  even  distantly  alluded  to  by  an  English  writer, 
he  says  :  "At  six  o'clock,  just  as  the  rays  of  the  ex- 
piring sun  were  pouring  into  the  chamber  of  death. 
Honourable  Justice  Mukerjee  gave  one  deep  sigh  and 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  255 

his  soul  departed  to  God,  who  gave  it.      Now  the  fat 
was  in  the  fire  !     Here  was  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish  !  " 

The  book  was  published  in  all  seriousness  and 
speedily  had  a  large  sale,  particularly  amongst  Anglo- 
Indians,  much  to  the  puzzlement  though  hardly  con- 
cealed delight  of  the  quite  sincere  and  unconscious 
author,  who  had  no  conception  that  Anglo- India  was 
one  vast  agony  of  laughter  from  Peshawur  to  Tuticorin. 


CHAPTER    XX 
MY    INDIAN   TOUR— (Conimued) 

Like  a  bubble  floating  in  the  air  the  Taj  Mahal  seen 
upon  a  misty  morning  just  after  sunrise  revealed  itself 
to  me  in  a  fairy  beauty  the  memory  of  which  will  never 
leave  me.  To  me  the  first  glimpse  of  a  famous  sight,  a 
world-renowned  place,  is  always  tremendously  impres- 
sive :  one's  first  vision  of  Niagara  ;  the  first  glimpse  of 
Jerusalem  ;  the  dome  of  St.  Peter  glittering  in  the  sun- 
light as  it  rears  itself  above  the  lovely  and  widespreading 
Campagna  round  Rome  ;  the  catching  sight  for  the  first 
time  of  the  pyramids  as  they  swiftly,  suddenly  rise  out 
of  the  tawny  desert,  and  you  rush  to  the  window  of  the 
train  which  bears  you  from  Port  Said  to  Cairo,  and 
some  one  cries  out  to  you,  "  Look,  there  are  the 
pyramids  !  "  and  you  behold  the  mighty  monuments  of 
which  you  first  heard  perhaps  from  your  dear  mother 
in  the  earliest  days  of  your  childhood.  It  is  then  that, 
almost  unbidden,  you  experience  the  emotions  of  a  life- 
time, crowded  into  one  glorious  moment  of  actuality. 
You  can  never  thereafter  say  that  you  are  amongst  those 
to  whom  the  actual  vision  of  these  splendid  records  of 
the  past  has  not  been  vouchsafed.  And  so  it  was  on 
that  misty  momin,g  when  I  first  beheld  the  Taj  Mahal 
and  realized  for  myself,  and  not  by  means  of  books  or 
pictures  or  some  one  else's  experience,  the  extreme 
beauty   of   Shah   Jehan's   mausoleum  for  his   favourite 

wife,   Mumtaza   Mahal,   and   where  he  himself  is  also 

256 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  257 

buried.  It  is  a  thrice-told  tale,  the  glory  of  this 
exquisite  piece  of  architecture,  by  many  people  declared 
to  be  the  most  beautiful  and  the  most  perfectly  propor- 
tioned building  in  the  whole  world.  But  what  appealed 
to  me  most  was  its  divine  silence,  its  atmosphere  and 
suggestion  of  eternal  rest. 

It  is  extraordinary,  when  you  come  to  think  of  it, 
that  any  building  of  mere  man,  any  compilation  of  brick' 
and  stone  and  mortar,  shall  be  able  to  create  or  to  bear 
within  it  so  intangible  and  yet  so  definite  a  quality 
of  what  is  nothing  less  than  a  spiritual  atmosphere  ; 
and  yet  a  hundred  times  over  the  old  Norman 
cathedrals  of  Europe  have  impressed  one  in  precisely 
the  same  manner,  and  they  preseTve  also  and  carry 
with  them  a  sense  of  historic  continuity  which  no  mere 
landscape,  though  it  may  have  been  the  scene  of  a 
thousand  stirring  scenes  and  events  in  the  history  of  a 
race  or  a  nation,  can  ever  hope  to  do. 

And  thus  it  is  with  the  Taj  Mahal.  One  experiences 
the  happiness  that  comes  of  a  perfect  sense  of  rest 
and  divine  peace,  the  unbroken  silence  of  the  centuries, 
at  the  same  moment  that  the  building  is  redolent  of 
the  history  and  romance  of  the  long -dead  past.  Very 
dim  and  exquisitely  subdued  is  the  light  that  creeps  in 
from  the  brilliant  sunlit  exterior  through  those  open 
doors,  and  impressive  beyond  all  words,  and  unfqf- 
gettable  for  ever  the  wonderful  echo  and  resonance  that 
those  superb  walls  give  back'  to  the  intoning  of  an  Arab 
invocation  to  the  Deity.  I  have  never  heard  a  more 
beautiful  echo  than  that  which  followed,  in  long-drawn- 
out  chords  of  dreamless  beauty,  the  voice  of  our  Moham- 
medan guide,  on  that  memorable  morning  when  he 
chanted  a  Moslem  prayer. 

The  only  thing  that  is  comparable  to  it  in  the  region 
of  acoustics,  at  all  events  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  is  the 

18 


258  MY    INDIAN    TOUR' 

perfect  and  marvellous  echo  that  the  Alpine  passes  give 
back  to  the  sounding  of  the  horn  in  the  Swiss  valleys. 
But  you  all  know  the  story  and  the  aspect  of  the  Taj 
Mahal,  upon  which  twenty  thousand  workmen  were 
continuously  engaged  for  twenty-two  years.  It  is  the 
thoughts  and  impressions  that  come  to  one  on  a  first 
glimpse  of  these  wonders  of  a  beautiful  world  that 
perhaps  remain  longest  in  the  memory. 

It  was  the  same  with  regard  to  Cawnpore.  What  I 
remember  most  kindly  of  this  city  of  the  tragic  Mutiny 
memories  is  Marochetti's  "  Angel  of  Peace,"  glittering 
in  the  Indian  sun  which  covers  the  fatal  well  ;  a 
pathetic  spot  consecrated  for  all  time  to  the  people  of 
England  and  the  Empire,  the  memorial  upon  which  is 
inscribed  in  words  the  simple  pathos  of  which  must 
appeal  to  every  man  and  woman  who  reads  them  for 
the  first  time,  or  for  the  last  time  for  the  matter  of 
that  :  "  Sacred  to  the  perpetual  memory  of  a  great 
company  of  Christian  people,  chiefly  women  and 
children,"  all  of  whom  lie  at  rest  for  ever  beneath 
the  statue. 

It  tells  such  a  story  of  strong  heroic  endurance,  even 
though  those  who  endured  were  womien  chiefly.  His- 
torians have  often  written  panegyrics  upon  the  work  of 
those  great  Englishmen  who  have  built  up  our  Indian 
Empire,  but  how  few  have  ever  troubled  to  give  a 
thought  to  the  silent,  unknown,  but  none  the  less  effec- 
tive work  of  our  English  women  in  India,  or,  indeed, 
in  almost  any  part  of  the  wide-spreading  British 
Empire.  No  one  can  really  estimate  what  English 
women  have  done  for  India,  for  such  deeds  as  theirs 
are  not  summed  up  by  figures  on  a  dial  or  by  any  system 
of  calculation.  But  for  at  least  two  hundred  years 
they  have  displayed  to  the  outer  world  the  noblest  quali- 
ties of  womanhood  that  that  world  has  ever  witnessed. 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  259 

A  British  officer  seated  in  his  drawing-room  one  day 
overheard  a  discussion  between  his  servants  in  the  com- 
pound, and  after  a  while  the  noisy  chatter  died  down 
into  silence,  and  the  voice  of  an  old  native  was  heard 
saying — 

"  English  mem-sahib,  cabbi,  cubbi,  tiahi  jute-bat 
bolta  "   ('*  An  English  mem-sahib  never  speaks  a  lie  "). 

And  that  settled  the  whole  matter  in  dispute.  It  was 
a  fine,  spontaneous  tribute  to  the  national  character  for 
honour,  truth,  and  strictest  probity,  and  none  have  helped 
better  to  preserve  the  honour  of  Britain  untarnished  in 
that  respect  than  have  English  women  condemned  to 
live  in  India,  often  far  away  from  all  their  old  friends 
and  associations,  and  often  separated  from  the  children 
they  most  love.  The  pathetic  part  of  Anglo -Indian 
parents  is  that  they  are  forced  by  the  exigencies  of 
circumstances  to  grcuv  up  strangers  to  their  own  flesh 
and  blood.  Novelists,  it  seems  to  me,  have  laid  too 
much  stress  on  the  lighter  and  more  frivolous  side  of 
feminine  Anglo-Indian  life.  There  is  another  side,  less 
known,  which  reveals  the  patient  endurance,  the  splen- 
did courage,  the  self-sacrifice,  the  high  principle  of  the 
English  women  in  our  Indian  Empire.  An  untravelled 
English  woman  cannot  realize  what  Agra  or  Cawnpore 
or  Allahabad  is  like  in  May  and  June  with  the  ther- 
mometer at  112°  or  more  in  the  shade  and  the  hot  wind 
is  blowing,  and  when  perhaps  one  is  almost  too  poor  to 
afford  the  services  of  a  punkah -wallah,  or  when  it  is 
impossible   to   obtain   ice. 

Life  then  is  nothing  less  than  a  tragedy,  and  yet  you 
will  find  English  women,  growing  every  day  thinner 
and  paler,  and  every  year  losing  youth  and  beauty, 
going  bravely  on  for  the  sake  of  husband,  creed,  or 
country.  Not  until  the  Books  of  Judgment  are  made  up, 
on  the  last  great  day,  will  it  ever  be  known,  in  all  its 


26o  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

splendour  and  its  beauty,  the  work'  that  English  women 
have  accomplished  for  the  British  Raj  in  India  or  for 
the  Empire  in  general. 

And  of  Delhi  what,  too,  shall  I  say?  It  is  a  thrice 
difficult  task  to  attempt  to  describe  what  has  been 
described  so  often  before.  I  recall  with  artistic  wonder 
and  delight  the  splendour  of  a  sunset  behind  the  famous 
and  historic  tomb  of  Humayun,  the  second  of  the  Mogul 
dynasty,  a  noble  building  of  granite  inlaid  with  marble 
and  situated  in  a  wide -spreading  garden  of  terraces 
and  fountains,  surrounded  by  an  embattled  wall,  with 
towers  that  finely  cut  the  sky-line  and  compel  the 
gaze  of  such  as  have  eyes  for  architecture.  The  great 
white  marble  dome  towers  up  from  the  midst  of  these 
terraces  and  gardens,  and  on  the  evening  in  which  I 
saw  it,  it  outlined  itself  against  a  sky  of  incomparable 
beauty — a  sky  of  azure  blue  above,  and  crimsoned  be- 
neath with  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  whilst  great 
masses  of  white  and  golden  cumuli  climbed  up  from 
out  of  the  northern  horizon.  And  an  hour  later  I 
passed  down  the  whole  length  of  the  Chandni  Chauk,  or 
Street  of  Silver,  and  stood  beneath  the  light  of  the  full 
moon  as  it  brought  into  strong  relief,  from  out  of  the 
shadows  of  the  purple  Indian  night,  the  wondrous  archi- 
tecture of  the  Jama  Masjid,  or  Great  Mosque  of  Delhi. 
Very  boldly  it  stands  out  from  its  rock  eminence,  easily 
predominating  the  noble  city.  It  was  in  Delhi  I 
obtained  my  first  glimpse  of  the  missionary  world.  I 
was  fortunate  enough  to  talk  with  one  of  the  heads 
of  the  Delhi  Cambridge  Mission,  a  high  Anglican,  a 
courtly,  cultured  man  who  has  since  been  made  an 
Indian  bishop.  He  told  me  that  the  work  of  the  Mission 
lay  mainly  among  the  Mohammedans,  and  in  reply  to 
my  question  as  to  how  many  converts  they  gained  a 
year  he  said  :    "  Well,  I  don't  think  that  is  the  best  way 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  261 

to  form  an  estimate  of  the  value  of  mission  work.  How- 
ever, I  may  tell  you  that  during  the  last  twelve  months 
we  have  made  one  convert,  and  we  are  doubtful  about 
him.  However,  in  a  district  close  by,  the  Presbyterian 
and  dissenting  Missions,  including;  the  Salvation 
Army,  have  secured  during  the  same  time  no  less 
than  25,000,  so  that  they  amply  make  up  for 
our  deficiencies,  and  yet,"  he  continued  with  a  sly 
smile,  "  I  myself  would  prefer  our  one  doubtful 
convert." 

The  whole  question  of  missions  is  extremely  difficult. 
From  the  purely  commercial  and  common -sense  point 
of  view  to  send  out  a  large  college  of  highly  educated 
University  men  to  make  one  doubtful  convert  a  year 
appears  on  the  face  of  it  to  be  a  tragic  misapplication 
of  effort,  energy,  and  enthusiasm,  and  an  appalling  waste 
of  time  and  money.  But  the  main  question  is  :  Does  it 
really  do  the  native  good?  Is  it  benefiting  or  improving 
or  raising  the  tone  of  the  national  character?  This  is 
but  one  of  many  vexed  questions  that  have  been  thrashed 
out  a  hundred  times.  The  lamentable  and  indisputable 
fact  remains  that  all  over  the  world,  north,  south,  east, 
and  west,  the  Christianized  native  is  almost  invariably  a 
ruined  native  ;  the  worst  specimens  of  natives  in  India, 
China,  and  Africa  are  Christianized.  And  yet  the  mis- 
sionaries themselves  are  splendid  men — very  often,  not 
always.  They  are  amongst  the  most  interesting  and  the 
most  experienced  Europeans  in  the  East,  and  the  Roman 
Catholic  priests  and  missionaries  are  loved  and  admired 
by  all  the  Europeans  in  Asia  ;  the  Anglican  missionaries 
are  universally  respected  ;  the  Dissenters  are  admired 
by  some  people  and  disliked  by  others.  Why  this 
should   be   it   is   difficult   to  say. 

It  is  commonly  alleged  that  they  are  too  much 
addicted    to    the    comfortable    life.      I    remember,    for 


262  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

instance,  I  was  told  that  the  Baptist  minister  in  one 
famous  cantonment  led  the  most  luxurious  life  of  any- 
one in  the  community,  whilst  the  Roman  priest,  who 
was  idolized  by  the  English  people  as  well  as  by 
his  own  converts,  was  the  poorest  and  the  humblest 
person  in  the  station.  And  yet  these  Nonconformist 
missionaries  are  among  the  most  interesting  people 
I  have  ever  met.  I  can  imagine  no  people  more  inte- 
resting and  in  a  way  more  devoted  than  the  members 
of  the  China  Inland  Mission,  whilst  many  of  the  Ameri- 
can missionaries  in  Japan  are  most  delightful  men.  But 
it  is  alleged  against  even  these  latter,  as  it  is  often 
alleged  against  English  dissenting  missionaries,  that  they 
are  far  too  fond  of  trading  on  their  own  account,  and 
this  is  the  kind  of  thing  that  the  English  merchants  in 
the  Treaty  Ports  detest,  and  very  properly.  If  you 
want  to  arrive  at  any  estimate  of  the  missionary  ques- 
tion, travel  on  a  P.  and  O.  and  talk  to  merchants  from 
Bombay,  Shanghai,  Hong  Kong,  and  Yokohama.  You 
will  hear  some  rather  startling  home  truths.  And  the 
missionary  question  is  very  nearly  as  acute  in  India. 
Perhaps  the  class  of  men  sent  out  is  to  blame.  It  must 
be  remembered  that  India  is  the  land  of  caste,  class, 
ancient  tradition,  and  great  learning,  and  it  is  almost 
impossible  for  an  ordinary  English  dissenting  minister 
as  we  know  him  to  get  hold  of  these  people  at  all.  But 
it  is  a  problem  beyond  my  powers  ;  only  time  can  solve 
it.  As  it  is  one  seeks  refuge  in  silence  and  in  charitable 
hope  and  doubtful   conjecture. 

Visions,  memories,  dreams  of  India  come  back'  to 
me  that  are  a  perfect  joy.  It  is  not  always  the  great 
events  and  the  great  places  in  travel  that  live  longest  in 
the  memory  any  more  than  they  do  in  life  ;  it  is  fre- 
quently the  little  side  issues,  the  unexpected,  the  thing 
that   is   not    long   looked   forward  to,   the   casual  picnic 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  263 

by  the  roadside  that  lives  on  and  on  when  all  else  is 
forgotten  and  buried  in  the  limbo  of  the  past.     And  so 
it  is  in  regard  to  my  great  Indian  tour  ;    even  keener 
and  more  entrancing  than  my  memories   of  Agra's  red 
fort,  with  its  traditions  of  Shah  Jehan  and  his  adored 
wife,  and  that  bubble  of  beauty  by  the  riverside,  the  Taj 
Mahali,  the  undymg  tomb  of  that  same  loved  wife,  or  even 
Delhi  and  Lucknow  and  Cawnpore,  with  all  their  tender 
grace  and  their  romance  of  a  tragic  day,  I  remember  a 
beautiful  garden,  or  compound  as  it  is  universally  termed 
in  India,  spreading  round  a  magnificent  bungalow — and 
some  of  India's  bungalows  are   the  very  last   word  in 
charm  and  comfort  and  luxury.     But  oh  !    the  memory 
of  this  lovely  compound,  and  especially  when  I  used  to 
view  it  in  the  early  morning  as  I  revelled  in  my  chota- 
hazri  before    beginning    to    dress.      The    low   hedge  of 
prickly  pear,  or  cactus,  with  its  splendid  crimson  flames 
of  flowers   piercing   the  blue  sky,   and   its  great  thick, 
broad    leaves   white   with   the   pungent   dust   of   India  ; 
coarse    grass    through   which    gleamed    in    the    brilliant 
sunshine    any    amount    of    bright -coloured    zinnias    and 
balsams  ;    and  the  lovely  old  trees — the  mango -tree  with 
its  magnificent  shade  ;   the  neem  with  its  sweet -smelling 
white   flowers  ;     the   gold   mohur-tree   a   very   blaze   of 
crimson  ;    acacias,  and  then  masses  of  jasmine,  hibis- 
cus, oleander,  pink  and  white,  and  here  and  there  the 
bold,  daring,  flaming  bouganvillea.     And  in  some  of  the 
flower-beds  you  would  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  mignon- 
ette, redolent  with  a  thousand  memories — and  therefore 
so  dear  to  the  Anglo-Indian  heart  of  the  little  Rectory 
garden,    and    the    cool,    damp   old   church    in   England 
thousands   of   miles   away  ;     and   roses   are   there,   too, 
petunias,    flame -coloured    nasturtiums,    all    massed    to- 
gether in  a  profusion  and  a  riot  of  colour  such  as  one 
has  no  conception  of  in  our  quieter  and  subdued  homes 


264  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

in  the  Western  world.  And  you  catch  a  glimpse  of  a 
bronze-like  figure,  glittering  in  the  sunshine,  and  with 
little  else  about  it  other  than  a  dirty-white  loin  cloth  ;  that 
is  the  mali,  who  is  busy  with  the  hose  upon  the  carefully 
tended  grass  lawn  ;  and  how  deliciously  cooling  the  sound 
of  that  water  falling  here,  there,  and  everywhere,  the 
great  streams  glittering  like  a  wealth  of  diamonds  in 
the  gorgeous  sun.  And  always  there  is  the  curious 
pungent  smell  of  the  Indian  dust  in  one's  nostrils,  and 
you  can  hear  the  monotonous  "  cronk-cronk  "  of  the 
fever-bird  or  coppersmith,  for  the  hot  weather  will 
soon  be  here,  when  the  birds  will  be  silent  and  the 
lovely  flowers  will  have  wilted  in  the  heat  ;  and  you 
catch  a  glimpse  of  a  splendid  kite  wheeling  in  the 
far-off  sky,  from  whence  he  sends  down  that  wonderful 
metallic  cry  of  his,  which  once  heard  can  never  be  for- 
gotten, and  which  would  summon  up  a  thousand 
memories  did  one  but  suddenly  hear  it  in  a  London 
square.  And  the  hoopoos,  with  their  beautiful  crest  of 
feathers,  flash  about  the  lawn,  or  a  little,  grey-striped 
squirrel  darts  across  the  lawn  and  flies  up  a  tree,  in 
which  little  green  parakeets  are  chattering  and  quarrel- 
ling for  all  they  are  worth. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

MY    INDIAN    TOUR— {Con^mued) 
The  Malay  States  :   a  Memory  of  Kuala  Lumpur 

Kuala  Lumpur  came  to  me  as  a  delight  and  a 
surprise.  I  had  never  even  heard  of  the  place,  and 
my  astonishment  may  be  imagined  when  one  after- 
noon the  Malay  States  train  from  Penang  to  Singa- 
pore threw  me  out  into  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
railway-stations  I  ever  saw  in  my  life — lofty,  spacious, 
cool  and  echoing,  and  dehghtfully  new  and  spick  and 
span,  spacious  and  comfortable.  It  was  a  delightful 
introduction  to  a  charming  place.  I  remember  Kuala 
Lumpur  as  a  beautifully  clean  town,  with  a  fine,  roomy 
English  club,  with  a  superb  green  in  front  of  it  and 
upon  which  the  members  played  cricket  and  lawn- 
tennis  and  sometimes  that  old  English  game  so  popular 
in  the  Far  £ast,  the  old  Jacobean  game,  or  Tudor 
game  it  may  be  for  all  I  know  to  the  contrary,  the 
game  of  bowls.  Stately  forests  and  blue  hills  and 
mysterious  jungles,  full  of  man-eating  tigers,  and  cool, 
glittering  lakes  surround  this  spacious  and  busy  city, 
the  streets  of  which  are  thronged  with  Chinese,  Malays, 
and  many  other  nationalities,  the  gallant  Sikh  police 
everywhere  in  evidence  and  keeping  the  most  excel- 
lent order.  Now  it  so  happened  that  a  certain  lady 
asked  us  to  give  an  entertainment  at  her  bungalow  in 
the    hills,    and    Hughes    journeyed    out    there    to    make 


266  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

all^-the  necessary  arrangements.  When  he  returned 
he  said  :  "I  don't  know  how  we  shall  get  you  there, 
Alfred.  The  Chinese  coolies  will  hardly  be  up  to 
carrying  seventeen  stone  of  solid  Capper  up  that 
awful  hill.  We  shall  have  to  get  hold  of  a  con- 
veyance somehow  or  another."  Well,  I  didn't  know 
what  to  suggest,  and  we  were  almost  in  despair,  when 
suddenly  a  very  dapper  little  man,  clean-shaven,  with 
bright,  twinkling  eyes  and  looking  very  much  like  a 
high-class  low  comedian — which,  by  the  by,  seems 
rather  a  contradiction  in  terms — stepped  forward,  and, 
making  a  profound  and  rather  theatrical  bow,  said  : 
"  Forgive  me,  gentlemen,  I  couldn't  well  help  hearing 
what  you  were  saying,  and  as  you  are  obviously 
strangers  I  will  introduce  myself.  My  name  is  Wilham 
Pitt,  a  name  I  am  very  proud  of.  Whether  I  am 
descended  from  that  illustrious  English  statesman  or 
not  I  am  unable  to  say,  but  in  any  case  I  am  exceed- 
ingly proud  of  the  name.  He  was  Prime  Minister  of 
England  :  I  am  only  a  jobmaster  here  in  Kuala 
Lumpur  ;  but  at  all  events  a  carriage  and  pair  shall 
be  here  at  your  service  at  three  o'clock,  and  may  I 
ask  who  it  is  to  whom  I  have  the  honour  of  speaking? 
"  Alfred  Capper  !  "  he  cried,  bowing  profoundly  once 
again.  "  Sir,  Malaya  is  honoured  by  your  presence. 
I  need  scarcely  add  that  I  trust  that,  so  far  as  my 
carriage  is  concerned,  you  will  consider  yourselves  my 
most  honoured  guests.  And  now  may  I  ask  you  both 
to  name  that  form  of  liquid  refreshment  which  you 
think  would  best  meet  and  counteract  the  exigencies 
of  this  most  enervating  climate."  We  sat  down  after 
a  while,  and  I  was '  immensely  delighted  with  Mr. 
William  Pitt's  wonderful  flow  of  language,  the  most 
pedantic  you  could  imagine  and  which  was  neverthe- 
less  relieved   by   some   of   the  most   amusing  anecdotes 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  267 

I  have  ever  heard  in  my  life.  "  Talking  of  the 
Zoological  Gardens,  Mr.  Capper,"  to  which  popular 
Cockney  resort,  by  the  by,  I  give  you  my  word  of 
honour  not  one  of  us  had  made  the  most  distant  refer- 
ence— "  talking  of  the  Zoological  Gardens  reminds  me 
of  an  incident  that  once  took  place  there.  I  was  stand- 
ing many  years  ago  looking  at  a  fine  specimen  of  a 
kangaroo  they  had  there,  and  an  old  lady  standing  by 
my  side  and  whom  I  had  never  set  eyes  upon  in  my 
life  before  said  to  me — 

"  '  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  them  kangaroos 
come   from   America,    don't    they?  ' 

"  '  Oh  no,  madam,'  I  replied  ;  '  they  are  British 
Imperialists  in  the  finest  and  best  sense  of  the  word  ; 
they  are  natives  of  Australia.' 

"  '  Natives  of  Australia  !  '  she  cried  in  great  excite- 
ment. '  Why,  my  pore  sister  married  one  o'  them 
chaps  !  '  " 

Just  at  that  moment  a  fine,  soldierly -looking 
man  passed  the  hotel  door.  "  Ah  !  "  said  William 
Pitt,  "  there  goes  one  of  our  sad  examples  of  what 
drink  can  do  in  the  way  of  wrecking  a  man's  life 
and  prospects."  I  must  add  he  was  just  partaking  at 
that   very   moment    of   his    tenth    whisky-peg.        "  That 

man   is    Colonel   .      A   very   good   story   is   told   of 

him  when  he  was  in  command  somewhere  in  India. 
He  had  noticed  or  pretended  to  think  that  one  of  the 
newly  joined  subalterns  had  taken  rather  more  wine 
than  was  quite  wise  at  mess  one  night  ;  so  after 
dinner  he  called  the  young  fellow  into  the  ante -room 
and  he  said  to  him — 

'  Jones,  my  boy,  take  my  advice  and  be  very  care- 
ful both  as  to  the  quantity  and  the  quality  of  the  wine 
you  drink  at  dinner.  And  you  may  always  know  when 
you   have   had    enough    by   this    sign.      You   see   those 


268  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

two  candlesticks  on  the  mantelpiece  :  well,  when  you 
see  four  of  them  you  may  take  it  as  a  sign  you  had 
better  go  to  bed.' 

"  '  Thank  you  very  much,  sir,'  replied  the  young 
officer,  '  but  I  should  like  to  point  out  that  there's  only 
one  candlestick  on  the  mantelpiece  !  '  " 

A  few  days  after  my  chat  with  William  Pitt  I  was 
calling  on  an  old  gentleman  who  kept  the  Rest  House 
and  who,  although  he  was  upwards  of  seventy  years 
of  age,  had  only  just  married  a  comparatively  young 
woman.  I  was  sitting  there  very  comfortably  and 
enjoying  a  very  amusing  chat  with  the  bride  and 
bridegroom  when  suddenly  I  caught  a  glimpse  of 
William  Pitt  driving  up  to  the  bungalow  in  a  .smart 
buggy^  with  a  pretty  but  very  dusky  lady  at  his  side, 
and  two  minutes  afterwards  Mr.  Pitt,  obviously  in  a 
very  joyous  and  chatty  frame  of  mind,  walked  up  to 
us  all  and  saluted  us  with  great  heartiness. 

"  Ah,  my  lovebirds  !  "  he  cried.  "  How  charming 
it  is  to  see  you  both  together  !  And  now,  Mr.  Capper, 
we  must  celebrate  the  joyous  occasion.  What  is  it 
to  be?     Mine's  beer. 

I  replied,  "  Thank  you  very  much.  Mine  is  a 
whisky-peg.  But  what  about  the  charming  lady  with 
you?  " 

He  frowned  and  shook  a  warning  finger.  "  Ah, 
Mr.  Capper,  that's  my  business,  not  yours  ;  we'll  leave 
her  where  she  is,  poor  little  woman  I  She'll  be  quite 
happy  by  herself." 

I  congratulated  him  on  his  appearance  of  health, 
which,  indeed,  appeared  to  me  to  be  excellent  and 
sufficient  to  account  for  all  his  high   spirits. 

"  No,  Mr.  Capper  !  "  he  cried — "  no,  you  and  your 
wonderful  powers  of  discernment  are  all  wrong.  I 
feel  my  days  are  numbered.    When  I  woke  this  morning 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  269 

I  was  conscious  of  a  numbness  in  my  arm  and  a 
twitching  in  my  fingers.  I  have  just  come  from  my 
lawyer,  where,  in  consequence  of  my  untimely  and  un- 
desirable sensations,  I  have  just  made  my  will  entirely 
in  favour  of  the  little  native  lady  in  the  buggy  there." 

To  change  his  train  of  thought  I  said,  "  Have  you 
known  our  host  and  hostess  long?  " 

"  Oh  yes,"  he  replied  ;  "  they  are  both  old  friends 
of  mine." 

"Did  you  go  to  their  wedding?"  I   asked. 

"  Yes  and  no,"  was  his  extraordinary  reply. 

"  Yes  and  no  !  "  I  cried.  "  What  on  earth  do  you 
mean?  " 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Capper,  you  may  well  be  puzzled,  but 
I  will  explain.  Mr.  Robinson  asked  me  to  his 
wedding,  of  course,  and  of  course  I  accepted  ;  but 
equally  of  course  I  went  and  forgot  all  about  it.  Well, 
one  day  last  week  I  happened  to  drive  by  the  church 
and  I  noticed  there  was  a  great  crowd  there  and 
everybody  seemed  very  excited,  and  I  said  to  myself, 
"  By  Jove  !  of  course  it's  old  Robinson's  wedding  ! 
How  lucky  !     I'll  go  in. 

"  So,  being  of  a  very  modest  disposition,  I  slipped 
in  at  the  very  back  of  the  church.  I  stood  up  ^md 
took  a  good  look  round,  and  sure  enough  I  caught 
a  glimpse  of  old  Robinson  seated  away  there  up  in 
the  chancel.  Just  at  that  moment  the  organ  struck 
up  and  the  bride,  very  heavily  veiled,  walked  up  the 
church  and  entered  the  chancel.  To  my  astonishment 
old  Robinson,  '  like  the  old  fool  he  is,'  I  angrily  said 
to  myself,  sat  stock  still  in  his  seat,  and  another  man 
came  forward  and  he  and  the  bride  walked  up  to  the 
altar  steps  together,  and  Mr.  Marshall,  our  clergyman, 
to  my  horror  and  astonishment  began  the  service.  I 
stood  it  as  long  a,s  1  could,  but  when  the  parson  actually 


270  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

proceeded  to  put  a  ring  on  the  bride's  finger  I  sprang 
up  and  shouted  out,  '  Stop,  Mr.  Marshall  !  You  are 
marrying  her  to  the  wrong  man  !  It's  that  old  fool 
Robinson  there  she's  marrying,  not  that  man,  whom 
I  never  saw  before  in  my  life  !  '  Just  at  that  moment 
the  bride  turned  to  me  and  lifted  her  veil  and  said, 
'  Who  are  you?  This  is  the  man  I  am  marrying.' 
And  lo  and  behold  it  was  another  couple  altogether  ! 

"  Marshall,  our  clergyman,  was  obviously  very  angry. 
'  Mr.  Pitt,  you  have  strangely  forgotten  yourself.  I 
must  ask  you  to  come  to  my  bungalow  to-night  and 
explain  your  extraordinary  conduct.'  Which  I  did  that 
very  night,  and  I  never  saw  a  man  laugh  so  much  in 
all  my  life,  Mr.  Capper  ;  he  literally  rolled  on  the 
floor  and  the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks." 

So  far  William  Pitt.  But  it  so  happened  that  I 
met  Mr.  Marshall,  a  handsome,  delightful  man.  When 
I  related  the  incident  to  him  he  said:  "  Oh,  Mr. 
Capper,  there's  not  a  word  of  truth  in  the  whole  thing. 
It's  only  one  of   William   Pitt's  mad  yarns." 

I  have  dealt  rather  lengthily  with  poor  William  Pitt, 
who  has  passed  away  from  earth  since  I  returned  to 
England,  not  only  because  he  interested  me  enor- 
mously, for  he  had  certain  qualities  of  both  head  and 
heart  which  of  necessity  commended  him  to  many  who 
must  otherwise  have  strongly  disapproved  of  his  one 
fatal  and  disqualifying  weakness,  but  because  he  also 
represented  a  type  of  Englishman  that  one  meets  now 
and  again  when  travelling  in  the  East,  the  flotsam 
and  jetsam  of  a  mighty  Empire.  The  Malay  Archi- 
pelago appealed  to  me  for  many  reasons,  and  not  least 
so  for  the  curious  types  of  humanity  with  which  it 
seethes.  When  I  was  in  Kuala  Lumpur,  for  instance, 
the  Chinese  were  having  the  most  tremendous  battles 
over  the  great  pigtail  question,  which  the  new  revolu- 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  271 

tion  in  China  itself  was  doing  away  with.     And  many 
a   time    in   the    streets   of   Kuala   Lumpur   did    I    laugh 
till    I    cried    as    I    witnessed    the    revolutionary    party 
literally   tearing    the    hair    out    by   the    roots    from    the 
heads  of  the  old  Tory  school.     I  was  deeply  interested 
in   hearing    that    the    Chinese   in    the    Straits    are    men 
frequently   of    the    very    highest    business    ability,    and 
that  many  of  them  amassed  gigantic  fortunes.      Much 
of  the  archipelago  is  now,  of  course,  given  up  to  the 
cultivation  of  rubber,  and  I  would  frequently  pass  large 
tracts  of  land  the  trees  on  which  had  been  cut  down 
to  make  room  for  the  young  rubber  plants.     Amongst 
the    Europeans    who    are    making   their    livelihood    out 
of    this    comparatively    new    industry    are   hundreds    of 
English  public-school  boys,  who,  of  course,  are  always 
a  great  acquisition  to  the  colony.     The  life  appealed  to 
me    enormously  ;     it    was    all   so    new    to    me,    and    so 
different    from    anything    I    had    ever    seen    before.      I 
loved    the    quaint    little    port    towns    and    the    landing- 
stages,    against    which    the    tropic    seas    gently    lapped 
beneath  the  burning  Oriental  sun  ;    I  have  ever  a  vision 
of  the  magnificent  forests  climbing  the  mountains  which 
always  form  the  background  of  these  exquisitely  paint- 
able    little    towns  ;     and    in    the    harbour    you    catch    a 
glimpse  of  the  great  ocean-going  liners  swinging  lazily 
on   the   heaving   tide,    and   the   hum   of  myriad   insects 
is  in  the  air,  and  the  vast  growth  of  vegetation  steam- 
ing beneath  that  brazen  sky  whispers  a  story  of  mystery 
and    of    nature    which    is    irresistible    in   its    suggestion 
of  the  magic  and  romance  of  the  Golden  East.      The 
life  in  the  English  bungalows  and  the  really  first-class 
hotels  and  the  delightful  social  clubs  possesses  also  a 
fascination    which    I    think    is    without    compare.      The 
moment    when    you    are    roused   for   your   early   tea   in 
the  morning,   when   the   fresh   breeze   blows   into   your 


272  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

room,  unheated  by  the  fierce  rays  of  the  sun,  as  you 
know  it  will  be  later  on  in  the  day,  even  the  white 
mosquito-net  round  and  over  your  bed  speaks  to  you 
of  something  you  have  never  known  before^  and  the 
admirably  trained  servants  and  the  comfort  of  the  life 
and  the  often  very  considerable  beauty  of  the  bungalows 
both  within  and  without  all  bring  with  them  a  name- 
less charm  which  he  who  has  not  actually  experienced 
for  himself  cannot  hope  to  understand  in  all  its  fullness. 
Of  all  the  places  I  visited  during  my  splendid  Eastern 
tour  I  think  I  liked  Kuala  Lumpur  best,  if  only  for  the 
fact  that  it  was  so  entirely  unexpected.  Penang,  of 
course,  was  a  dream  of  delight,  and  to  me  the  soul 
of  the  East  revealed  itself  in  all  its  unexpectedness 
during  my  quiet  drives  and  walks  in  this  most  lovely 
district.  I  had  never  realized  the  exquisite  beauty  and 
the  hidden  mystery  of  the  tropics  so  fully  as  I  did 
when  we  slipped  into  Penang  harbour  and  the  sun 
shot  up  "  out  o'  China  'crost  the  bay  "  and  the  tropic 
morning  bathed  mc  in  its  wondrous  heat.  I  revelled 
in  the  heat  ;  I  never  once  found  it  excessive.  But 
it  was  the  romance  of  Penang  which  so  channed 
me,  and  which  so  strongly  suggested  to  me  the 
scene  and  locale  of  Joseph  Conrad's  delightful 
story  "  Almayer's  Folly."  And  yet  it  cannot 
always  have  been  as  charming  as  it  is  to-day,  at  all 
events  not  if  we  are  to  believe  Captain  Sir  James 
Lancaster,  who,  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  day,  "  came  to 
an  anker  in  a  very  good  harborough  between  three 
islands.  Here  wee  stayed  for  two  monthes,  but  our 
refreshing  was  very  small,  onely  of  oisters  growing 
on  rocks,  greet  wilks,  and  some  small  fish  which  we 
tooke  with  our  hookes."  And  this  is  the  first  mention 
of  Penang  which  can  be  traced  amongst  English  writers. 
One  of  the  most  exquisite  drives  in  the  world  is  along 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  273 

the  Tanjong  Bunga,  the  Corniche  of  Malaya,  of  which 
an  unknown  writer  in  a  local  pamphlet  gives  so  charm- 
ing a  description  that  I  cannot  do  better  than  quote 
it    in    full. 

"  If  you  go  along  this  road  in  the  bright  morning/' 
he  says—"  and  most  mornings  in  Penang  are  bright — 
you  will  lay  up  in  memory  for  ever  those  sweet  glimpses 
through  the  palms  of  the  delicious  blues  and  greens 
which  are  that  summer  sea.  On  the  gold  of  the 
sand,  to  which  you  look  down  from  the  red  banks  of 
the  road,  lie  splashes  of  black  granite  boulder  lapped 
by  the  waves.  Gazing  outwards  you  shall  see,  a  little 
way  off,  Tiny  Mouse  Island  (Pulau  Tikus  Kechil), 
floating  like  a  flower,  with  its  white  lighthouse  for 
a  centre.  At  a  bend  of  the  road  a  bold  headland 
juts  out  bravely,  tree-crowned.  At  another  bend  the 
coast  recedes,  and  curves  to  form  a  sweeping  beach, 
palm-fringed,  dotted  with  boats.  Out  to  sea  are  the 
sepia  sails  of  junks,  and  beyond  them,  framinig  all, 
loom  in  the  far  distance  the  violet  shadows  of  thte 
Kedah  hills." 

And  then  the  Chinese  temples  of  Ayer  Itam,  where 
temple  surpasses  temple  in  mystery  and  sombre  beauty. 
In  one  a  solemn  figure  broods  and  compels  reverence. 
In  another  laughs  a  jolly  god,  and  you,  in  turn,  smile 
at  his  jovial  countenance.  Side  by  side  sit  hideous 
and  gigantic  demons,  crushing!  the  wicked  under  foot. 
Everywhere  is  Buddha— Buddha  brass,  Buddha  ala- 
baster, Buddha  goldleaf,  but  always  Buddha  mysteri- 
ously at  peace.  From  the  very  top  of  tops  you  look 
down  again  across  the  flamboyant  roofs  and  see  Penang 
laid  beneath  you,  a  sea  of  waving  palm-tops.  At 
length,  having  wandered  where  you  will,  you  are  in- 
vited to  drink  a  cup  of  complimentary  tea,  which  I 
thoroughly  enjoyed,  and  the  visitors'  book  is  laid  before 

19 


274  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

you,  full  of  famous  names.  On  the  wall  of  the  tea- 
room hang  the  signatures  of  thjC  Duke  of  Connaught, 
Admiral  Togo,  and  Chulalongkorn,  the  late  King  of 
Siam.  I  was  very  much  interested  to  learn  that  here 
each  race  of  Buddhists  has  its  own  temple — Siamese, 
Japanese,  Chinese,  Burmese,  or  Sinhalese.  What 
struck  me  very  forcibly  was  the  extraordinary  simi- 
larity in  the  service  and  worship  of  the  bonzes,  or 
priests,  to  that  of  the  Roman  Catholics  in  an  Italian 
or  Spanish  church.  The  clean-shaven  priests  in  their 
yellow  robes,  the  incense,  the  dim  religious  light  of 
the  temple,  the  loud  tinkling  of  an  altar  bell  at  stated 
intervals,  the  chanting  and  monotonous  intoning,  the 
rhythmical  genuflections  of  the  worshipping  priests — I 
could  have  sworn  at  times  I  was  in  a  Roman  Church. 
Nor  can  I  ever  forget  the  Rock  Temples  of  Ipoh, 
The  first  little  shrine  is  Tamil.  Its  exterior  is  not 
impressive,  but  looking  behind  the  outer  altar  one 
sees  with  a  little  shock  pf  surprise  a  tiny,  glimmering 
flame  set  afar  oft"  down  the  mouth  of  a  black'  passage 
in  the  rock.  Entering  the  passage,  before  you  come  tp 
the  bottom,  you  reach  a  second  altar,  apparently  closing 
the  way,  but  just  enough  space  has  been  left  to  admit 
of  one's  slipping  past,  tripping  over  chance  stalagmites, 
avoiding  chance  stalactites,  along  a  dark,  gloomy,  and 
narrow  run  way  in  the  rock,  breathing  a  heavy  smell 
of  incense,  and  at  last  arriving  at  the  tiny,  glimmier- 
ing  flame,  which  you  find  fitfully  illuminating  two  tiny 
gods,  glistening  with  votive  oil,  d,ecked  with  white 
and  sacred  blossom — Naga  the  cobra  and  Ganesha 
the  elephant -headed.  Of  one  of  these  temples,  a  great 
Chinese  temple,  out  on  the  Gopeng  road,  I  can  only 
say  that  its  interior  is  exactly  like  a  scene  in  a  gorgeous 
pantomime  at  Drury  Lane.  And  all  the  time  I  was 
in   Malaya,    not   more   than   three   weeks   altogether,   I 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  275 

was  haunted  by  that  feeling  of  sadness  which  in- 
variably is  the  accompaniment  of  beautiful  surround- 
ings. Why?  I  know  not,  unless  it  is  the  feeling 
of  regret  that  you  will  probably  never  see  them  again. 
And  then,  too,  I  regretted  my  lack  of  knowledge  of 
the  history  of  these  most  wonderful  parts  of  the  world. 
One  was  dimly  conscious  of  a  race  of  men  who  had 
dwelt  in  Malaya  in  pre-historic  ages,  for  proofs  have 
been  discovered  in  the  soil  of  the  caves  that  this  was 
so,  but  it  is  all  jnere  conjecture  :  one  knows  nothing 
for  certain,  as  one  knows  the  past  of  England,  for 
instance.  And  then,  again,  I  felt  that  there  was  so 
much  going  on  at  the  present  moment,  and  that  there 
was  so  much  that  had  gone  on  before  the  Federation  of 
the  States  was  accomplished,  of  which  I  was  utterly 
ignorant,,  that  I  could  not  but  regret  the  manner  in 
which  English  people  generally  utterly  ignore  the 
building  up  of  that  vast  Empire  of  which  their  own 
loved  island   is  the  very  core. 

To  me  it  appears  that  the  building'  up  of  the  British 
Empire  is  best  symbolized  by  the  formation  of  the 
coral  islands  which  little  insects  gradually  build  up 
out  of  the  Southern  Seas  during  the  long  passage  of 
the  ages.  Thus  gradually  has  been  evolved  and 
developed  the  wondrous  Empire.  And  the  work  that 
has  been  accomplished  by  Sir  Andrew  Clarke,  James 
Wheeler,  Sir  Stamford  Raffles,  Woodford  Birch,  who 
was  assassinated  many  years  ago  in  Malaya,  the 
brothers  Sir  Frank  and  Sir  Alexander  Swettenham,  and 
Sir  Hugh  Clifford,  is  as  fine  a  work  and  as  lasting  a 
tribute  to  the  genius  of  the  English  people  for  capacity 
in  colonization  and  the  ruling  and  subjugation  of  myriad 
races  as  has  ever  been  witnessed  during  the  long  history 
of  the  world. 

I  shall  never  forget  Malaya,  nor  my  last  glimpse  of 


276  MY    INDIAN    TOUR 

that  region  of  incomparable  charm  as  I  stood  upon 
the  liner's  deck  and  gazed  at  the  receding  land. 
Majestic  and  impressive  was  the  scene  as  a  distant 
evening  thunderstorm  rolled  up  from  the  dim  horizon, 
its  black-blue  clouds  lowering  above  the  white-splashed 
rocks,  and  its  whole  scheme  of  colour  shot  through  and 
through  with  those  violet  vapours  into  which  darkness 
at   length  melts   the  dying  light   of  day. 

One  memory  of  the  East  I  shall  always  carry  away 
with  me,  though  in  itself  the  incident  I  am  about  to 
relate  was  not  in  any  way  connected  with  matters 
Oriental.  I  was  in  a  certain  great  port,  and  I  had 
been  lunching  with  the  Admiral  commanding  the 
British  Fleet  in  those  waters.  Now  it  so  chanced  that 
the  flagship  for  some  reason  or  other  was  going  farther 
up  coast,  and  as  a  good  deal  of  ceremony  was  to  be 
observed  on  the  occasion,  the  Admiral  had  invited 
quite  a  large  party,  including  the  Governor  and  Mili- 
tary Commander-in-Chief,  to  luncheon  on  that  day. 
The  scene  after  luncheon,  when  we  proceeded  on  deck, 
was  superb  and  unforgettable.  On  one  side  lay  the 
ocean,  stretching  away  for  illimitable  distances,  and 
blue  and  hazy  beneath  the  blaze  of  the  tropic  sun  ; 
on  the  other  the  busy  harbour,  alive  with  craft  of 
every  kind  :  stately  mien-of-war,  their  grey  and  black 
hulls  magnificently  impressive  by  reason  of  their  very 
simplicity  and  menacing  in  their  sombre  and  sinister 
aspect,  were  reflected  with  wonderful  fidelity  in 
the  still  and  sparkling  waters  of  the  great  bay  ; 
exquisite  white-sailed  yachts  literally  glittered  in  the 
sunshine  ;  and  behind  them  stood  the  gaily  decorated 
little  town,  creeping  up  the  noble  mountain,  which, 
visible  from  the  lovely  ocean,  for  many  a  league  of 
heaving  waters,  dominates,  and  splendidly  dominates, 
the  whole  glowing  scene. 


MY    INDIAN    TOUR  277 

At  last  came  the  moment  when  the  British  flagship, 
on  which  we  were  all  gathered,  was  to  move  slowly 
up  the  harbour.  I  must  mention  that  we  had  to  pass 
through  quite  a  line  of  foreign  battleships,  and  as 
we  did  so,  1  standing  by  the  Admiral  on  the  bridge, 
each  ship  struck'  up  first  its  own  National  Anthem  and 
then  ours.  It  was  an  immensely  and  amazingly  im- 
pressive scene,  and  as  the  beautiful  battleship  slowly 
and  with  unimaginable  stateliness  moved  by  these  float- 
ing bulwarks  of  the  Great  Powers  of  the  world  and 
the  National  Anthems  of  Russia,  France,  and  Austria 
stole  softly  out  upon  the  sweet-scented  breeze  and 
the  notes  were  borne  out  to  the  lonely  ocean,  and  as 
the  grand  strains  of  the  British  hymn  crashed  out  in 
response,  one  felt  a  lump  in  one's  throat,  and  one 
realized,  as  never  perhaps  before,  the  might,  majesty, 
and  dominion,  and  the  unbelievable  romance  and  un- 
equalled picturesqueness  of  the  British  Empire  and 
all  that  it  stands  for  and  what  it  means  to  be  an 
■Englishman.  Verily  that  moment  brought  to  me  the 
heartfelt  conviction  that  a  citizen  of  the  British  Empire 
is  in  very  deed  and  truth  the  citizen  of  no  mean  city. 


CHAPTER    XXII 

A   DAY   WITH   THE   CINEMATOGRAPH 

I  AM  an  enthusiast  regarding  the  picture-palaces,  for 
the  simple  reason  that  they  have  done  almost  more 
to  revolutionize  life,  and  in  the  right  direction,  than 
anything  I  know  ;  and  therefore  my  joy  was  great  when 
one  day  my  friend  Mr.  Dewsbury,  one  of  the  "  pro- 
ducers "  and  managers  of  the  London  Film  Company, 
wrote  to  me  and  asked  me  to  come  down  and  see  for 
myself  exactly  how  one  of  their  magnificent  dramas 
was  produced.  "  We  are  doing  some  of  our  great 
scenes  in  '  The  Prisoner  of  Zenda  '  next  week,"  he 
wrote,  "  and  if  you  like,  when  you  have  seen  our 
cathedral  coronation  scene,  which  is  acted  here  in 
our  Twickenham  studio  on  Wednesday,  to  go  down 
with  us  on  Thursday  to  an  old  castle  in  Kent  we  shall 
be  only  too  pleased  to  have  your  merry  company." 

On  Wednesday,  a  bright,  hot  morning  in  June  1 9 1 4, 
therefore,  I  got  out  of  the  train  at  St.  Margaret's 
Station,  and,  crossing  the  road,  I  soon  found  myself 
within  the  magnificent  premises  of  the  London  Film 
Company,  a  very  wonderful  business  concern,  which 
owes  its  existence  to  the  genius  of  a  very  clever  young 
Birmingham  physician.  Dr.  A.  E.  Jupp,  who,  with  Sir 
William  Bass,  Bart.,  as  chairman,  is,  with  his  uncle 
and  cousin,  Messrs.  Newbould,  the  managing  director 
of   this    remarkable    cinematograph    film    company,    the 

finest    in    London    and    very  possibly    in    days   to   come 

278 


A   DAY    WITH    THE    CINEMATOGRAPH     279 

the  finest  in  the  world.  As  I  entered  from  the  Uttle 
passage  I  stopped  transfixed  with  astonishment  at  the 
splendour  of  the  spectacle  that  met  my  startled  gaze. 
To  begin  with,  I  did  not  appear  to  stand  in  a  studio 
at  all  ;  I  was  in  an  old  Norman  cathedral :  there 
were  the  pillars  and  the  long-drawn-out  aisles,  and 
the  Gothic  arches  and  the  lancet  windows  far  above 
my  head,  and  far  away  candles  and  jewellery  glittered 
upon  a  mediaeval  altar,  in  front  of  which  stood  mitred 
bishops  surrounded  by  a  host  of  priests  and  monks, 
great  officers  of  state,  generals,  princesses,  ladies  of 
the  Court,  the  cathedral  choir  of  beautiful  boys  in 
surplices  and  crimson  cassocks,  a  vast  crowd  of 
soldiers,  citizens,  and  Ambassadors,  and  many  others 
pressing  forward  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  State  pro- 
cession of  the  King  and  his  exquisitely  lovely  bride — a 
lady  who  on  this  occasion  was  enacted  by  a  hand- 
some American  girl,  Miss  Jane  Gail,  with  whom  I 
regret  to  say  I  fell  violently  in  love  at  first  sight 
and  with  whom  I  have  been  in  love  ever  since.  The 
double  part  of  the  monarch  and  Rudolph  Rassendyl, 
who  you  will  doubtless  remember  so  closely  resembled 
each  other  that  you  could  never  tell  the  two  men 
apart,  was  enacted  by  a  certain  famous  London  actor 
who  shall  be  nameless  in  these  pages,  but  who 
gave  nevertheless  a  performance  that  will  ever  linger 
in  my  memeory  as  one  of  the  finest  I  have  ever  seen, 
and  that  has  since  delighted  thousands,  nay,  prob- 
ably millions,  of  people  in  every  part  of  the  world. 
But  what  impressed  me  so  much  was  the  clever  manner 
in  which  the  whole  mise  en  scene  was  contrived.  Many 
people  who  have  witnessed  this  scene  in  the  picture- 
palaces  have  declared  that  it  was  all  enacted  in  a  real 
church  ;  but  I  can  assure  them  that  it  took  place  exactly 
as  I   have  related   it  here,   and  what  impressed  me  as 


28o     A    DAY    WITH    THE    CINEMATOGRAPH 

much  as  anything  was  the  magnificence  of  the  uniforms 
and  costumes,  which  glittered  like  diamonds  in  the 
blaze  of  that  wonderfully  pure  white  light.  It  is  a 
great  industry,  this  cinema  film  industry,  and  it  opens 
up  not  only  new  vistas  of  employment  for  our  young 
people,  but  it  introduces  new  elements  of  thought  and 
life  into  our  whole  existence  ;  indeed,  as  I  say,  it  has 
helped  to  revolutionize  life  in  many  directions.  1  had 
a  long  talk  with  Mr.  Dewsbury  as  I  strolled  about  the 
vast  building,  and  asked  him  many  questions  upon  this 
most  interesting  work  and  industry  of  film-producing, 
of  the  extraordinary  difficulty  of  which,  when  com- 
pared with  the  work  of  the  ordinary  stage,  I  had  had 
no    previous   conception." 

"  In  many  ways,"  said  Dewsbury,  "  it  is  far 
more  ticklish  and  far  more  difficult  and  delicate 
and  elaborate  than  it  is  on  the  regular  stage.  Once 
before  the  camera  and  everything  is  indelible  ; 
it  is  a  record  for  all  time  ;  mistakes  as  well  as 
that  which  is  right  live  for  ever.  And  then,  Mr. 
Capper,  it  requires  an  amount  of  calculation  and  fore- 
sight which  is  absolutely  inconceivable  to  the  ordinary 
theatrical  manager,  let  alone  the  man  in  the  street.  I 
have  to  calculate  and  to  be  sure  of  the  dramatic 
value  of  scenes  ahead  of  one  and  behind  one  in  a 
manner  which  is  quite  astounding  when  you  come  to 
go  into  the  matter  scientifically.  Think  what  it  must 
be  when  you  are  producing  and  are  responsible  for 
a  scene  of  thirty  seconds  and  yet  upon  the  right  acting 
of  which  the  whole  play  may  depend.  Every  single 
gesture,  every  single  glance,  every  single  step  must  be 
calculated  to  a  hair's  breadth  before  it  is  finally  recorded 
for  ever  upon  the  film.  That  is  the  great  technical 
diff'erence  between  '  producing  '  for  the  ordinary  stage 
and  for  the  cinema.      Well,  good-bye  till  to-morrow." 


A    DAY    WITH    THE    CINEMATOGRAPH     281 

On   the   following   day,   having   travelled   down   with 
the  company  of  actors  and  actresses  by  train,  I  found 
myself  one   of   a   merry    party   of   brilliantly   costumed 
people — soldiers  on  horseback,  pretty  ladies,  statesmen, 
royal     footmen,     priests,     and     others — in     the     lovely 
grounds  of  an  ancient  and  historic  castle  in  the  South 
of  England.      Grim  and  grey  and  vastly  imposing,  the 
magnificent  old  pile  reared  itself  above  the  rich  foliage 
of    the    sweet,    old-fashioned    park,    and    its    castellated 
towers  and  walls  splendidly  outhned  themselves  against 
the   blue    of    a    charming    summer    sky,    a   perfect    type 
and  picture  of  our  old  historic  English  life.    I  stood  with 
my   friend   Dewsbury    outside    the   castle   walls,    almost 
beneath  a  grey  and  moss-grown  archway  which  gave  im- 
mediately upon  a  very  ancient  moat,  the  water  green  with 
the   vegetable   growth   of  the   ages,    so    it   appeared   to 
me,  and  traversed  by  a  delightfully  quaint  and  beauti- 
fully designed  little  stone  bridge,  across  which  mailed 
figures   must   have    clanked   and   clattered    hundreds   of 
times  in  the  long  dead  centuries  since  that  bridge  was 
first  built.     And  even  as  I   looked  Rudolph  Rassendyl 
rushed  through   the   ancient   doorway,  clad  only  in  his 
shirt  and  riding-breeches  and  carrying  a  sword  in  his 
hand.      Suddenly  he  dived  into  the  water  of  the  moat, 
which  sprang  up  in  a  cloud  of  foam  that  sparkled  ex- 
quisitely in  the  brilliant  sunshine,  much,  I  should  think, 
to  the  astonishment  and  discomfiture  of  whatever  fishes 
may  have  been  there,  and,  swimming  across,  he  speedily 
climbed   the    bank    on    the    other    side   and   started   to 
run    across    the    beautiful    park,    disturbing    as    he    did 
so    a    herd   of    deer    which    were    placidly   and   uncon- 
cernedly browsing   away   as  their  ancestors   must   have 
done   any    time    during    the    last    six   hundred   years   of 
English  history.     And  then  a  stirring  scene  took  place. 
Rudolph's   enemy   darted    suddenly   forth,   and   the   two 


282     A    DAY    WITH    THE    CINEMATOGRAPH 

engaged  in  one  of  the  most  realistic,  one  of  the  stiffest, 
and  one  of  the  most  arduous  sword  duels  that  I  should 
think  was  ever  fought  on  English  soil  ;  and  right  well 
did  Rudolph  Rassendyl,  who,  ere  these  words  can  be 
read  by  the  general  public,  will  probably  be  fighting 
in  another  and  a  greater  and  a  more  terrible  conflict 
than  that  in  which  he  engaged  in  mimic  warfare  last 
year— right  well,  I  say,  did  he  wield  his  swift  and 
glittering  weapon. 

It  was  a  striking  scene  as  the  two  men  stood  within 
a  lovely  glade,  surrounded  by  trees— oaks  and  beeches 
— that  were  almost  as  old  and  time-worn  as  the  castle 
walls  themselves  and  beneath  which  many  a  great 
personage  in  English  history  has  doubtless  taken 
rest,  for  the  poet  Spenser  and  good  Queen  Bess 
herself  and  Walter  Raleigh  used  to  lodge  here  in 
those  spacious  days  of  old,  and  the  sun's  rays, 
like  golden  arrows,  pierced  the  leafy  branches  and 
fell  in  great  yellow  splashes  upon  the  dark  green 
sward. 

And  away  to  the  right  the  noble  pile  of  buildings, 
dominating  the  whole  scene,  provided  a  background, 
not  only  of  extreme  beauty  but  of  deep  historic  interest 
to  this  remarkable  play,  a  background  and  a  romance 
and  a  vital  interest  which  would  be  utterly  lacking  in 
even  the  most  beautiful  production  upon  the  finest 
London  stage.  For  that  is  one  of  the  most  appealing 
features  of  the  cinematograph  :  its  astonishing  actualism 
and  the  stupendous  variety  of  scene  that  one  can  intro- 
duce into  the  setting  of  a  great  play,  such  as  "  The 
Prisoner  of  Zenda."  In  fact,  the  possibilities  and 
potentialities  of  the  cinema,  if  only  from  the  scenic 
point  of  view,  are  unimaginable.  As  we  watched  the 
young  people  in  their  brilliant  costumes  flitting  here 
and   there   through   the   sunlit   glades   of  the  park  and 


A    DAY    WITH    THE    CINEMATOGRAPH     283 

looking  absolutely  at  home  amidst  their  romantic  sur- 
roundings I  asked  Mr.  Dewsbury  if  he  found  his 
players  as  a  rule  fell  naturally  into  their  parts. 
"  Well,"  he  replied,  "  of  course  it  depends  very 
much  upon  temperament.  Naturally  a  great  actor 
such  as  he  who  is  playing  the  King  and 
Rudolph  Rassendyl  over  there  is  rarely  if  ever  at  a 
loss.  But  that  is  a  question  of  intelligence  as  well 
as  temperament,  for  the  art  of  the  ordinary  stage  is 
very  different  from  the  art  of  the  cinema.  As  regards 
the  ordinary  cinema  crowd  of  supers,  the  English  are 
not  so  good  as  Italians,  French,  or  Spanish.  I  have 
known  a  number  of  farm  hands  in  Italy,  who  have 
never  acted  before  in  their  lives,  fall  as  naturally  into 
a  cinema  play  as  though  they  had  been  at  it  all  their 
lives.  Now,  you  wouldn't  get  that  with  English 
people." 

"  That  is  rather  curious,"  I  remarked,  "  for  I  remem- 
ber that  when  Mr.  L.  N.  Parker  was  rehearsing  his 
splendid  Dover  Pageant  some  years  ago,  he  had  to 
engage  the  services  of  a  number  of  French  people — 
not  actors,  of  course — to  play  one  special  scene,  and  he 
told  me  that  there  was  no  comparison  between  the 
English  and  the  French  amateurs  when  they  were  in 
costume.  The  French,  by  comparison,  were  stiff  and 
awkward  ;  the  English  as  soon  as  they  donned  ruff  and 
hose  threw  off  all  the  national  mauvaise  honte  and 
gaucherie,  and  were  the  most  natural  people  in  the 
field,  making  every  one  else  in  modem  costume  look 
stiff    and   awkward   at   once." 

"  Ah,  yes  !  "  said  Mr.  Dewsbury.  "  To  a  great  extent 
I  agree,  for  no  people  in  the  world  so  well  become 
costume  as  the  English,  for  none  know  so  well  how  to 
comport  themselves  when  in  it.  But,  then,  you  must 
also  remember  Mr.  Parker's  French  people  were  acting 


284     A    DAY    WITH    THE    CINEMATOGRAPH 

under  an  Englishman  ;  probably  had  they  had  a 
Frenchman  directing  them,  they  would  have  been  easy 
and  the  English  uneasy.  As  a  rule  I  think  one  might 
say  that  the  Latin  nations  act  well  from  sheer  natural 
temperament,  the  Scandinavian  and  German  because  of 
their  magnificent  schools  of  acting,  the  Americans  owing 
to  the  fact  that  they  are  the  product  of  all  Europe,, 
and  are  a  compound  of  many  temperaments  and  many 
intelligences,  and  the  English  by  fits  and  starts,  and 
only  after  they  have  been  very  carefully  and  painfully 
coached  as  to  what  they  have  to  do  exactly.  I  mean  to 
say  it  is  not  nearly  so  spontaneous  with  them  as  it  is 
with   other   nations. 

"  But  what  is  a  really  remarkable  fact,  and  one  which 
demonstrates  the  wonderful  difference  between  the  art 
of  the  stage  and  the  art  of  the  cinema — if  you  (may 
so  describe  it— is  that  stage  ability  does  not  always  mean 
ability  for  the  cinema.  At  the  same  time,  a  man  who 
is  a  great  artist  on  the  stage  can  almost  always  succeed 
with  us,  because  the  very  fact  that  he  is  an  lartist 
implies  a  certain  amount  of  intelligence,  and  intelli- 
gence with  a  capacity  for  hard  work  enables  a  man  to 
accomplish  almost  anything." 

"  Have  you  any  ideas  as  to  the  educational  value  of 
the  cinema?  "  I  asked  Mr.  Dcwsbury. 

"  Why,"  he  replied,  with  ill-concealed  astonish- 
ment at  my  simplicity,  "  it  ought  to  revolutionize 
the  whole  education  of  the  schools.  In  days  to 
come  I  venture  to  say  that  you  will  teach  science, 
natural  history,  geography,  the  history  of  the  natives, 
all  by  the  cinema.  Just  imagine  a  geography 
lesson  illustrated  by  the  cinema,  and  seeing  people 
and  costumes  and  buildings  and  habits  and  cus- 
toms as  well  as  places  all  at  once.  Fancy  enacting 
the  great  battles  of  English  history,  such  as  Bosworth 


A    DAY    WITH    THE    CINEMATOGRAPH     285 

Field  and  Naseby,  Agincourt  and  Cressy  on  the  very 
ground  on  which  they  were  fought  and  in  the  very 
costumes  and  with  the  very  arms  of  the  period.  How 
children  would  love  history  and  geography  then,  and 
how  popular  an  otherwise  dry  science  or  natural  history 
lesson  would  become  !  I  see  no  limit  to  the  cinema 
of  the  future." 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

ODDS   AND   ENDS 

This,  as  its  title  indicates,  is  a  mere  Olla  Podrida  of 
varied  incidents  in  my  life,  which  I  thus  serve  up  alto- 
gether in  as  tasty  a  manner  as  possible.  To  begin  with„ 
among  the  many  charlatans  who  have  professed  to  be 
gifted  with  supernatural  power,  and  who  were  subse- 
quently proved  to  be  nothing  but  tricksters  and 
impostors  of  the  worst  description,  the  famous  Daven- 
port Brothers  easily  reign  supreme.  They  hailed  from 
America,  that  veritable  land  of  humbug  and  chicanery. 
They  were  spiritualists,  whose  whole  lives  and  minds, 
however,  were  of  the  most  materialistic  order,  and  forty 
years  ago  or  so  they  caused  a  real  sensation  here  in 
London  and  the  provinces.  One  of  their  most  sensa- 
tional performances,  for  which  they  claimed  to  be  guided 
by  the  highest  spiritual  powers,  consisted  in  their  being 
imprisoned  in  a  cabinet,  from  which  they  were  ap- 
parently released  by  spiritual  machinations.  It  was,  of 
course,  sheer  humbug,  and  their  subsequent  exposure, 
which  curiously  enough  came  about  through  the  agency 
of  Mr.  Henry  Irving,  then  at  the  very  outset  of  his 
wonderful  career,  caused  a  painful  sensation  amongst 
the  thousands  who  had  joined  themselves  to  the  cause 
with  much  the  same  fervour  and  fanaticism  as  charac- 
terized the  earliest  manifestations  of  Christianity. 

Now,  in  the  early  part  of  my  programme  it  used  to 
be  my  practice  to  introduce  this  feat  of  the  Davenport 


ODDS    AND    ENDS  287 

Brothers,  in  which  I  a.m  tied  up  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  make  it  apparent  I  am  a  hopeless  prisoner 
until  some  one  comes  to  my  release.  I  need  scarcely 
say  that  I  used  to  be  able  to  free  myself  instantaneously 
without  any  outside  help  whatever,  and  thus  I  demon- 
strated and  exposed  the  ridiculous  and  fraudulent 
"  spiritualistic  "  manifestations  of  the  Davenport 
Brothers.  I  only  mention  this  curious  feature  of  the 
stances  of  men  who  have  long  since  themselves  joined 
the  world  of  spirits,  in  order  to  tell  a  rather  gruesome 
little  anecdote  in  connection  with  myself.  It  so  chanced 
that  a  certain  Father  Fleming,  who  was  for  many  years 
Roman  Catholic  chaplain  at  Newgate,  witnessed  my 
performance  one  day,  and  he  came  up  to  me  afterwards 
and  invited  me  to  pay  him'  a  visit  at  the  gaol,  when  he 
promised  to  take  me  round  and  show  me  the  historic 
prison.  I  gladly  accepted  his  invitation.  After  we 
had  paid  a  brief  and  shuddering  visit  to  the  condemned 
cell,  and  I  had  paced  the  few  yards  that  lay  between 
that  hideous  room,  that  room  of  unspeakable  sorrows 
and  ghastly  memories,  and  the  still  more  horrible 
chamber  of  death,  the  Father  said  to  me  :  "  Now,  Mr. 
Capper,  you  profess  yourself  able  to  free  yourself  from 
any  bonds  that  the  members  of  your  audiences  may  be 
able  to  tie  round  you  at  your  delightful  performances, 
but  I  will  wager  you  won't  be  able  to  get  free  of  these 
pinionings  which  have  fast -bound  sixteen  of  the  most 
terrible  murderers  we  have  had  in  their  last  few 
moments  on  the  scaffold."  And  as  he  spoke  he  and 
the  warder  in  attendance  harnessed  and  bound  me  up 
just  as  the  executioner  binds  the  miserable  wretches 
who  are  to  suffer  the  last  extreme  punishment  of  the 
law.  Frankly,  I  found  it  impossible  to  free  myself,  and 
I  confess  my  sensations  were  so  shuddering  and  un- 
canny that   I   breathed  a  prayer  of  thankfulness  when 


288  ODDS    AND    ENDS 

I  found  myself  a  free  man  once  more  outside  the  gaol 
doors,  with  the  sweet  summer  wind  blowing  in  my 
face. 

I  can  remember  how  dreadfully  I  was  once  let  in — 
in  a  very  innocent  but  in  a  very  uncomfortable  manner. 
A  certain  delightful  lady  in  Chichester  asked  me  to 
come  down  one  afternoon  and  give  a  performance  in 
her  drawing-room.  Well,  on  the  appointed  day  I  turned 
up  at  Chichester  Station,  where  I  was  met  at  the  mid- 
day train  by  the  son  of  the  house.  He  appeared  rather 
astonished  when  in  reply  to  his  question  as  to  whether 
I  had  brought  any  luggage  with  me  or  not  I  said — 

*'  Oh  no,  that  is  a  characteristic  of  my  performances  ; 
I  always  go  on  the  stage  without  any  paraphernalia  of 
any  description  whatever,  barring,  of  course,  the  ordi- 
nary  evening   dress. 

"  But  that's  just  it,  my  dear  Mr.  Capper  ;  the  per- 
formance is  to  take  place  this  evening." 

"  But,  good  gracious,  my  dear  boy,  your  mother 
distinctly  asked  me  for  this  afternoon  !  Why,  I  have 
her  letter  in  my  pocket  1  " 

"  There  1  "  he  cried,  in  a  sort  of  desperate  fury. 
"  Isn't  that  mother  all  over  !  Then  she  has  never  told 
you  that  as  we  found  the  whole  place  wanted  to  coone;, 
Bishop,  Dean,  Mayor,  and  all,  we  have  determined  to 
give  our  reception  in  the  Town  Hall  to-night.  Do  you 
mean  to  say  she  never  told  you  that?  " 

"  Not  a  word,"  I  replied.  "  And,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
I  am  engaged  at  a  very  special  dinner-party  in  London 
this  evening.  In  any  case  I  should  not  dream  of  per- 
forming at  a  Town  Hall  in  a  light  grey  suit,  and,"  I 
rather  angrily  added,  "  I  think  I  had  better  take  the 
first  train  back  to  town." 

By  this  time,  however,  we  had  reached  the  delightful 
home   of   my   young    friend,    and    the    distant    vision   I 


ODDS    AND    ENDS  289 

obtained  through  an  open  window  of  a  most  inviting- 
looking  lobster  salad  and  a  huge  dish  of  strawberries 
and  cream  made  me  resolve  to  wait,  at  all  events,  for 
a  considerably  late  train.  My  hostess  rushed  out  to 
meet  me. 

"  So  good  of  you  to  come,  dear  Mr.  Capper  !  Walter 
has  told  you  Ave  have  engaged  the  Town  Hall  for  you, 
hasn't  he?  " 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Smith,"  I  replied,  "  he  has,  and  he  has 
also  told  me  that  you  have  put  the  performance  off  till 
to-night.  I  regret  that  I  have  another  engagement  in 
town  and  shall  not  be  able  to  be  present." 

Poor  woman  I     Shall  I  ever  forget  her  dismay? 

"  But,  Mr.  Capper,  you  promised  and  I  have  been 
relying  on  you." 

"  Yes,  madam,"  I  answered  as  sternly  as  I  could, 
"  but  you  asked  me  for  the  afternoon  and  you  never  told 
me  of  the  change  you  had  decided  on." 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  her  grief  was  so 
genuine  and  the  trouble  and  confusion  was  so  great 
and  the  absolute  impossibility  of  putting  the  enter- 
tainment off  at  the  very  last  minute  was  so  obvious 
that  I  said  at  last:  "  Very  well.  I  will  wire  to  my 
friends  that  I  cannot  dine  with  them  and  I  will  give 
my  performance  at  the  Town  Hall,  but  I  must  have 
the  loan  of  a   dress   suit." 

This  also  was  found  to  be  impossible,  because  every 
one  who  had  a  dress  suit  was  going  to  wear  it  at 
the  Town  Hall,  and  nothing  was  left  but  for  me  to 
go  into  Portsmouth,  and  there,  down  by  the  Docks, 
I  found  a  kind  of  an  evening  suit,  into  which  I 
managed  at  last  to  compress  my  somewhat  bulky 
person,  but  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty  and  at  the 
expense  of  smiles  and  downright  laughter  on  the  part 
of   all   those   who   witnessed   my   ludicrous   appearance. 

20 


290  ODDS    AND    ENDS 

However,  the  evening  was  a  great  success,  and  my 
performance  never  went  better,  though  loud  crackings 
and  burstings  of  my  upper  and  nether  garments  caused 
me  throughout  the  evening  a  very  agony  of  anxiety 
and  reduced  many  of  the  fairer  members  of  my  audience 
to  the  verge  of  violent  hysterics.  At  the  conclusion 
the  Bishop— Dr.  Ernest  Wilberforce,  a  most  courtly 
and  dignified  personage  and  a  brother  of  my  old  and 
dear  friend  Canon  Basil  Wilberforce— came  up  to  me 
and  said,  sotto  voce,  "  I  don't  know  which  I  admire 
most,  my  dear  Capper,  your  performance  or  your 
tailor's  ! 

On    the   following   morning    as    1    lay    in   bed   I    was 
roused  by  a  most  terrific  noise  in  the  nursery  and  on 
the    landing    just    outside    my    room.       I    must    explain 
that   my   friend's   house   swarmed   with   children,   owing 
to  the  fact  that  he,  a  widower  with  a  family  of  young 
children,    had    married    a    widow    also    with    a    young 
family,  and  that  they  had  subsequently  acquired  another 
family  of   their   own   manufacture.      At   last   I   heard  a 
loud  banging  on  the  door  and  my  old  friend's  voice  cry- 
ing out  in  desperation  to  his  wife  :    "  My  dear,  I  wish 
you  would  come  and  deal  with  these  dreadful  children  ! 
I    can   do   nothing  with   them.      My  children   and  your 
children   have    set    upon    our    children    and   are   giving 
them    fits  !       We    must    separate    them    or    there'll    be 
nothing   left   of  them  at   all  !  " 

During  my  seventeen  years'  residence  in  Windsor 
I  gave  seventeen  performances,  which  were  always 
largely  attended  by  the  Eton  boys,  and  by  this  means 
I  became  acquainted  with  a  vast  number  of  delight- 
ful young  fellows,  whose  acquaintance  and  friendship 
I  still  possess,  an  added  interest  to  my  varied  life  and 
career.  Indeed,  it  was  one  of  my  Eton  friends  who 
first   induced  me  to  go   racing.      I  am  not  much  of  a 


ODDS    AND    ENDS  291 

racing  man,  though  I  have  spent  some  delightful  days 
at  Ascot  and  Goodwood  in  my  time.  Well,  it  chanced 
one  Saturday,  a  good  many  years  ago,  that  a  friend 
of  mine  asked  me  to  come  to  Kempton  with  him,  and 
we  arranged  to  go  into  the  cheapest  enclosure  there 
was  :  in  fact,  we  formed  one  of  the  great  crowd  of 
everybody  who  wasn't  anybody,  and  I  had  just  laugh- 
ingly said  to  my  companion,  "  Well,  at  all  events,  we 
shan't  meet  any  one  we  know  here/'  when  a  voice 
at  my  elbow  said — 

"  Hullo,  Mr.  Capper  !  I  am  glad  to  see  some  one 
I   know  ;    it's  so  dull  and   lonely  all  alone." 

I  looked  round,  and  there  stood  a  very  smart, 
pleasant -faced    Eton    boy.      I    replied — 

"'Well,  my  lad,  I  seem  to  know  your  face,  but  I 
can't  fix  a  name  to  it." 

"  Oh,"  he  answered,  "  of  course  I  have  seen  you 
so  often  I  feel  as  though  I  know  you  well  ;  but  I 
met  you  once  with  my  cousin  the  Duke  of  Westminster. 
I  am  Hugh  Grosvenor,  and  I  hope  you  will  let  me  walk 
about  with  you." 

Well  now,  here  was  rather  a  dilemma.  As  a  matter 
of  fact  I  stood  rather  well  with  Dr.  Warre  and  the 
authorities  at  Eton  College,  and  the  last  thing  I  should 
think  of  doing,  either  in  those  days  or  now,  would 
be  to  take  an  Eton  boy  to  a  racecourse,  which,  of 
course,  they  are  strictly  forbidden  to  attend  ;  so  1 
looked  dubiously  at  him  and  said:  "  Well,  Grosvenor, 
of  course  I  shall  be  delighted  to  have  your  company, 
but  you  must  never  let  out  to  a  living  soul  that  you 
have  been  to  the  races  with  me.  How  on  earth  did 
you  manage  to  get  here?  " 

"  Oh,"  he  answered,  "  it  is  the  Eton  and  Winchester 
match  to-day,  so  I  thought  I  would  get  anywhere  for 
the  afternoon." 


292  ODDS    AND    ENDS 

"  All  right,"  I  said,  "  but  you'll  have  to  be  back 
for   '  Absence  '  or   there'll  be  the  devil  to  pay." 

Just  before  the  4.30  race,  on  which  both  Grosvenor 
and  I  had  put  some  small  sums,  I  packed  him  into 
a  hansom — there  were  no  taxis  in  those  days — and  he 
drove  off  to  the  station,  I  promising  him  that  if  his 
horse  won  I  would  send  him  the  money. 

Sure  enough  the  horse  did  win,  and  on  the  Monday 
I  sent  him  his  ten  shillings.  On  Tuesday  I  received 
the  following  letter  from  him: 

Dear  Mr.  Capper, 

My  tutor  has  nabbed  your  letter.  I  have  declared  that 
you  have  tipped  me  10  bob.  Keep  it  up  whatever  you  do, 
otherwise  I  shall  get  expelled.  He  says  he  is  going  to  write  to 
you.  If  you  don't  mind,  meet  me  outside  the  White  Hart  Hotel, 
and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it.     Please  be  there. 

Yours  sincerely, 

Hugh  Grosvenor. 

I  was  disgusted  to  get  this  communication,  although 
I  couldn't  help  smiling  at  the  idea  of  my  tipping  a 
member  of  that  fabulously  wealthy  family  the 
Grosvenors  ;  nevertheless  I  was  downright  disgusted 
and  annoyed,  as  1  had  been  proud  of  the  fact  that  Dr. 
Warre  had  always  winked  at  the  boys  attending  my 
performances,  which  really  were,  strictly  speaking, 
"  out  of  bounds."  I  was  therefore  dismayed  at  the 
bare  idea  that  I  had  been  encouraging  his  boys  to 
do  exactly  that  which  would  be  most  disgraceful  in 
his  eyes,  and  therefore  I  turned  up  faithfully  and 
anxiously  at  the  trysting-place.  Punctually  to  the 
moment  Hugh  Grosvenor  and  his  cousin  the  Duke  ap- 
peared, and  they  both  of  them,  having  apparently  a 
great,  and  I  may  add  a  very  exaggerated,  idea  of  my 
powers  of  deceit  and  persuasion,  urged  me  to  back 
up   their   story  as   they   felt   sure  that    "  dear  old  Rad- 


ODDS    AND    ENDS  293 

cliffe,"  as  they  called  him,  would  believe  anything  I 
chose  to  tell  him. 

I,  however,  had  not  the  slightest  intention  of 
attempting  to  humbug  their  "  dear  old  Radcliffe,"  and 
though  I  quitted  them  comfortably  enough,  I  dreaded 
the  post  for  more  than  a  week  afterwards.  However, 
nothing  happened  and  the  whole  thing  fizzled  out— 
luckily  for  Master  Hugh,  who  would  otherwise  in- 
fallibly have  been  expelled  had  the  truth  really 
come   out. 

Another  racing  story  of  Hugh  Grosvenor,  who  is 
now^  the  Lord  Stalbridge  who  raced  home  from  the 
Front  to  make  a  very  telling  speech  on  ammuni- 
tion in  the  House  of  Lords,  his  maiden  speech,  indeed, 
and  I  have  done.  One  of  his  tutors  was  Mr.  Brinton, 
who  quite  rightly,  in  my  opinion,  strongly  objected 
to  these  racing  propensities  of  his  young  pupil,  and 
told  him  so  in  no  measured  terms.  Mr.  Brinton 
had  a  wholesome  horror  of  horse-racing,  betting,  and 
everything  to  do  with  the  sport  of  kings,  and  conse- 
quently no  one  was  more  surprised  and  disgusted  than 
he  and  his  friends,  who  well  knew  his  opinions  on  the 
subject,  when  on  the  day  after  Lord  Rosebery's  Ladas 
won  the  Derby  an  astonishing  paragraph  appeared  in 
the  London  Star  to  the  effect  that  he,  Mr.  Brinton, 
a  well-known  Eton  master,  had  amassed  quite  a  small 
fortune  through  backing  the  Prime  Minister's  horse. 
The  paragraph  went  on  to  state  that  the  lucky  winner 
had  been  persuaded  to  do  so  by  Lord  Rosebery  him- 
self, and  that  he  was  inundated  with  congratulations 
on   making    such    a    lucky    hit   with   his    very   first   bet. 

It  need  be  scarcely  added  that  the  Star  had  an  enor- 
mous circulation  that  night  in  Eton,  every  one  from 
the  Provost  and  head  master  down  to  the  smallest 
boy    in    the    college    eagerly    sending    out    for   a    copy. 


294  ODDS    AND    ENDS 

The  one  person  who  did  not  appreciate  the  paragraph, 
and  who  was  indeed  speechless  with  fury  at  its  appear- 
ance, was  Mr.  Brinton  himself,  who  caught  the  very 
next  train  to  town  that  night  and  hurried  up  to  the 
Star  office,  angrily  demanding  an  interview  with  the 
editor.  Naturally  I  don't  know  quite  what  happened 
at  that  interview,  but  Grosvenor  told  me  that  he  him- 
self sent  the  paragraph,  which  he  had  written  on  Eton 
College  notepaper  and  signed  his  letter  with  an  assumed 
name,  and  when  it  was  produced  for  Mr,  Brinton's 
benefit  by  the  much-puzzled  and  rather  indignant  editor 
it  was  discovered  that  the  writer  had  spelt  his  lord- 
ship's name  as  B^osebury,  which  at  the  time  he  had 
doubtless  imagined  was  the  correct  way  of  spelhng 
that  famous  and  historic  title.  Back  to  Eton  came 
the  now  furious  Brinton,  and  the  boys  of  his  class, 
unconscious  of  their  tutor's  visit  to  London,  were,  on 
the  following  morning,  told  to  write  an  essay,  of  which 
the  text  was,  "  Is  Lord  Roseberv's  Government  a 
success?  "  Each  essay  had  to  be  signed  and  delivered 
that  evening.  Sure  enough  a  very  badly  written  paper 
came  into  Mr.  Brinton's  hands,  a  paper  whereof  the 
writing  corresponded  exactly  with  that  of  the  letter 
to  the  editor  of  the  Star  ;  Rosebery  was  again  spelt 
as  Rose^ttry,  and  the  document  was  signed  by  Hugh 
Grosvenor.  Naturally  the  boy  was  at  once  sent  for, 
and  Mr.  Brinton  charged  him.  "  Grosvenor,"  he  said, 
"  it  was  you  who  sent  that  paragraph  to  the  Star. 
What  on  earth  did  you  mean  by  it?  " 

Doubtless  the  boy  was  taken  aback,  but  he  was 
too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  tell  a  deliberate  lie  about 
it,  and  he  was,  moreover,  fully  equal  to  the  occasion, 
as  with  the  superb  insolence  and  aplomb  of  the  typical 
Eton  boy  he  replied — 

"  And  isn't  it  true,  sir?     Then  you  have  my  sincere 


ODDS    AND    ENDS  295 

sympathy.  I  had  been  told  that  Lord  Rosebery  him- 
self, when  he  was  down  here  a  few  weeks  ago,  had 
advised  you  to  back  his  horse.  I  am  sorry  to  think 
the  report  was  false,  for  you  have  lost  the  chance  of 
your    life  1  " 

And  now  for  a  story  concerning  a  famous  novelist, 
which  may  come  as  a  surprsie  even  to  his  most  intimate 
friends  and  relatives.  Many  years  ago  I  was  giving  an 
entertainment  in  the  old  city  of  Salisbury.  After  the 
performance  was  over,  a  very  charming  boy  of  fourteen 
came  up  to  me  and  expressed  the  pleasure  he  had 
experienced  during  the  evening  and  asked  me  for  my 
address,  telling  me  at  the  same  time  that  his  name 
was  Guy  Boothby  and  that  he  was  living  with  his 
parents  in  Salisbury.  A  few  weeks  after  I  received 
a  letter  from  this  same  boy,  asking  me  if  I  would  come 
and  give  an  entertainment  at  his  aunt's  house  in  War- 
minster, an  invitation  which  1  gladly  accepted.  On 
that  occasion  young  Guy  Boothby  took  hold  of  the 
whole  entertainment  and  ruled  me  and  it  and  all  present 
with  an  iron  hand,  and  at  the  same  time  fascinating 
us  all  with  his  quite  unique  charm.  I  didn't  see  him 
for  many  years,  but  I  received  two  letters  from  him 
which  I  here  publish.  The  first  is  dated  from  the 
Town    Hall,    Adelaide,    South    Australia  :^ 

Town  Hall, 

Adelaide, 

S.  Australia. 

March  i8,  1887. 
Dear  Mr  Capper, 

I  don't  know  whether  you  will  remember  me,  but  I  once 
met  you  at  Salisbury  and  afterwards  at  Warminster.  You  showed 
me  how  to  do  one  or  two  things,  and  I  was  so  taken  with  your 
entertainment  that  I  have  tried  to  imitate  you  in  your  wonderful 
experiments. 

Two   years  after    I    saw    you    I    left    England,   and   have   been 
travelling     about     this     country     conjuring     and     ventriloquizing. 


296  ODDS    AND    ENDS 

About  three  weeks  ago  I  was  passing  through  a  small  township 
in  the  far  bush,  and  while  wailing  for  the  coach  horses  to  be 
changed,  I  went  in  to  the  pub.  bar  and  happened  to  glance 
through  an  old  number  of  the  English  Punch  (July  3,  1886), 
and  saw  an  account  of  your  Seance  in  London  ;  so  I  determined 
to  write  and  ask  you  if  you  remember  me  ....  I  am  just 
working  up  two  new  anti-spiritualistic  effects  that  I  think  will  take 
very  well.  .  .  .  Next  week  all  the  theatres  are  closed — nothing  on 
— and  luckily  I  have  succeeded  in  getting  the  Town  Hall  for  the 
week,  so  hope  to  do  well.  You  have  not  been  to  Adelaide,  I 
think  ;  if  ever  you  come  write  to  me  at  Glen  Osmond,  and  I'll 
give  you  a  hearty  welcome.  I  am  directing  this  letter  to 
Southampton,  so  1  hope  you  will  receive  it.  If  you  have  any 
spare  time  I  should  very  much  like  to  hear  from  you. 

Yours  sincerely, 

Guv    BOOTHBV 

{alias  Professor  Fleetwood). 

I  replied  at  once,  but  did  not  have  any  reply  to  my 
letter.  A  few  years  later  his  name  appeared  as  a 
contributor  to  the  Idler,  then  under  the  distinguished 
editorship  of  Mr.  Jerome  K.  Jerome  ;  and  I  imme- 
diately wrote  to  him,  care  of  the  magazine,  and  asked 
him  if  he  were  the  same  Guy  Boothby  I  had  known 
in  bygone  days,  and  I  here  append  extracts  from  the 
letter  I   received  in  reply  from  him  : — 

LVNHALR, 

RVDE,    I.W. 

Jan.   19,  1894. 
Mv  DE.\R  Mr.  Capper, 

Many  thanks  for  your  note.  Yes,  I  am  the  same  Guy 
Boothby  you  remember.  I  should  be  delighted  to  renew  my 
acquaintance  with  you  when  I  return  to  London.  Since  my  last 
letter  to  you  (in  1887)  I  have  been  very  busy  :  I  have  been  an 
actor,  a  gold-miner,  conjurer,  ventriloquist,  reporter,  pearl-diver, 
sailor,  loafer  in  and  through  all  the  East,  and  now — author.  As 
you  may  have  seen,  I  crossed  Australia  last  year  from  north  to 
south  through  the  centre — a  thirteen  months'  trip.  My  book  on 
this  subject  will  be  out  directly,  published  by  Longmans,  Green 
&  Co.  I  am  up  to  my  neck  correcting  proofs  of  my  first  novel, 
just  now,  and  preparing  to  get  married — both,  as  you  will  agree, 


ODDS    AND    ENDS  297 

important  steps  in  life.  ...  If  I  possibly  can  I  will  try  and  arrange 
to  run  up  to  town  within  the  next  week  or  two  for  the  great 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  again.  .  .  .  Your  performances  are  wonder- 
ful— I  should  so  much  like  to  see  one  again.  I  remember  how 
fascinated  I  was  by  them  at  Salisbury  and  Warminster  so  many 
years  ago,  and  I  owe  a  good  many  strange  experiences  to  those 
two  evenings. 

Yours  very  sincerely, 

Guy  Boothby. 

Of  course,  we  did  meet  very  shortly  afterwards,  on 
which  occasion  he  expressed  his  gratitude  to  me  for 
his  success  in  Hfe  :  "  It  was  through  you  and  your 
wonderful  entertainment,  Mr.  Capper,  that  I  broke  away 
from  the  conventional  life  and  started  out  on  the 
adventurous  career  which  has  landed  me  where  I 
am  now." 

It  is  a  grief  to  me  to  think  that  this  delightful  young 
man  and  accomplished  author  has  passed  from  all  those 
who  so  sincerely  loved  and  admired  him.  Guy 
Boothby's  memory  is  at  once  an  inspiration  and  a 
benediction  to  all  those  who  strive  to  avail  themselves 
of   life's  many  opportunities. 

In  the  early  days  of  my  professional  career  I  was 
a  member  for  several  years  of  one  of  the  best  Bohemian 
clubs  in  London,  viz.  the  Arundel  Club.  It  was  in 
Salisbury  Street,  Strand,  but  is  now  non-existent, 
and  the  space  which  it  once  occupied  is  now  covered 
by  the  Hotel  Cecil.  Amongst  its  most  distinguished 
members  were  Lord  Russell  of  Killowen,  H.  J.  Byron 
the  dramatist,  John  Hollingshead  of  the  Gaiety  Theatre, 
G.  A.  Sala,  Palgrave  Simpson,  Barry  Sullivan,  J.  L. 
Toole,  Henry  Irving,  Harrison  Weir,  the  delightful 
bird  and  animal  artist,  and  a  great  many  distinguished 
literary  and  artistic  people,  mostly  on  the  very  elderly 
side  of  life  ;  anyway,  I  was  quite  a  boy  in  their  midst. 
I   frequently  lunched  there,  all  the  members  partaking 


298  ODDS    AND    ENDS 

of  their  meal  at  one  table,  and  all  being  intimate  the 
one  with  the  other  and  most  generously  hospitable 
to  every  new  member — quite  unlike  the  ordinary  club- 
man of  Pall  Mall  or  Piccadilly. 

But  the  majority  of  the  members  never  put  in  an 
appearance  till  late  at  night,  and  they  remained  in  the 
Club  till  four  or  five  the  next  morning.  It  was  very 
rarely  that  I  visited  the  Club  so  late  in  the  day,  but  I 
can  never  forget  the  almost  only  occasion  on  which 
I  did  so. 

It  was  in  connection  with  the  University  Boat  Race 
of  that  now  far-off  year  when,  with  a  friend  of  mine, 
who  was  then  a  cadet  at  Sandhurst,  I  strolled  into  the 
Empire  Theatre  after  dinner.  Between  us  we  picked 
up  with  something  like  forty  young  men,  all  of  whom 
were  either  'Varsity  men  or  else  cadets  at  Sandhurst. 
If  they  didn't  know  me,  which  most  of  them  fervidly 
professed  to  do,  at  all  events  they  knew  my  friend. 
Anyhow,  in  a  rash  moment,  towards  eleven  o'clock, 
I  unthinkingly  invited  the  whole  forty  of  them  down 
to  the  Arundel  Club.  Arm-in-arm,  four  deep,  I 
remember,  we  marched  round  Leicester  Square,  shout- 
ing out  at  the  top  of  our  voices  the  once  popular 
song — 

We  don't  want  to  fight, 

which  was  varied  with  the  song  that  was  then  being 
sung  by  all  the  boys  in  every  London  street — 

Charlie  Dilke,  he's  spill  the  milk 
'leaking  it  home  from  Chelsea. 

The  whole  forty  of  us  were  in  immaculate  evening- 
dress,  flowers  in  buttonholes,  opera-hats,  etc.,  and  our 
entry  into  the  rather  shabby  old  Club  is  better  imagined 
than    described,    and    the    noise    of    forty    young    men 


ODDS    AND    ENDS  299 

tramping  up  the  stone  staircase  to  the  quiet  reading- 
room,  in  which  were  seated  some  ten  or  twelve  dear 
old  scholars  and  literary  people,  shy  and  shabby,  must 
have  absolutely  sent  a  thrill  of  terror  and  dismay 
through  them.  It  was  at  this  moment  that  I  suddenly 
realized  that  1  had  perhaps  rather  exceeded  the 
privileges  of  a  member  in  introducing  such  an  enormous 
number  of  unexpected  guests  vidthin  the  scholarly 
retirement   of  this  famous   Club. 

And  therefore  I  somewhat  timidly  and  apologetic- 
ally suggested  to  the  young  men  that  perhaps  we 
were  disturbing  the  old  gentlemen,  and  that  we  had 
better  remove  ourselves  to  the  nearest  hotel.  To  my 
utter  astonishment  and  to  the  rapturous  joy  of  the  noisy 
crew  one  of  the  ancient  members  sprang  up  and  said  : 
"  I  don't  know  who  you  are,  sir,  but  you  shall  do  no 
such  thing.  Never  shall  it  be  said  that  the  Arundel 
turned  its  guests  away — at  all  events,  before  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  These  gentlemen  are  the  guests 
of  all  of  us,  and  we  will  see  to  it  that  they  have  an 
evening  which  they  won't  forget  in  a  hurry."  Nor 
did  they.  Those  old  men  simply  devoted  themselves 
to  the  amusement  of  all  those  "  Johnnies,"  as  they 
were  called  in  those  days,  and  so  successfully  that  when 
we  quitted  the  Club  premises  at  five  o'clock  the  fol- 
lowing morning  they  one  and  all  declared  they  had 
had  the  time  of  their  lives. 

A  very  amusing  incident  in  connection  with  the 
Arundel  Club  comes  to  my  memory  as  I  write. 

A  certain  nobleman  had  been  very  kindly  entertained 
there,  and  in  gratitude  for  a  pleasant  evening  he  wrote 
to  the  secretary  : — 

Dear  Mr. , 

I  write  to  ask  you  if  you  and  your  committee   will  accept 
the  bird  which  accompanies  this  letter  in  a  separate  parcel. 


300  ODDS    AND    ENDS 

The  sequel  was  amusing,  and  is  best  told  in  the  two 
following  letters  : — 

Mv  DEAR  Lord , 

The  bird  arrived  safely  and  was  served  up  at  the  usual 
Club  Saturday  evening  dinner.  I  regret  to  say,  however,  that  it 
was  not  exactly  a  success,  and  indeed  no  one  in  the  Club  possessed 
either  an  arm  strong  enough  to  carve  it  or  a  stomach  strong  enough 
to  digest  it.  It  therefore  went  back  to  the  kitchen  very  much  as 
it  had  been  placed  on  the  table.  We  are  sure  you  meant  your 
little  joke  in  the  kindest  spirit,  but  at  the  same  time  a  brace  or 
two  of  partridges  or  pheasants  would  have  given  the  carver  less 
trouble,  and  our  somewhat  empty  interiors  more  satisfaction. 
However,  better  luck  next  time. 

To  which  letter,  in  due  course,  the  secretary  received 
the   following   astonishing    reply  : — 

Dear  Mr. , 

The  bird  was  meant  for  the  ornamentation  of  j'our  historic 
premises.  It  was  shot  in  this  park  by  James  the  First  three 
hundred  years  ago,  and  was  presented  by  him  to  my  ancestor,  who 
stuffed  it  forthwith  and  placed  it  in  the  hall  of  our  old  family 
seat,  where  it  has  remained  ever  since.  Tough  is  scarcely  the 
word  for  what  that  bird  must  have  been,  and  I  am  jolly  glad  that 
you  didn't  ask  me  to  eat  it.     You  have  my  hearty  sympathy. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  men  I  ever  met  was 
a  man  named  Williams,  who  was  historically  famous 
as  being  the  most  expert  burglar  ever  known  in 
England.  When  I  was  introduced  to  him  he  was  an 
officer  in  the  Salvation  Army,  a  converted  character 
who  had  forsworn  burgling,  and,  indeed,  was  sometimes 
employed  as  a  sort  of  amateur  detective,  in  addition 
to  going  out  as  a  Salvation  Army  preacher.  I  believe, 
poor  fellow,  he  subsequently  relapsed  into  his  old  habits, 
and  I  fancy,  though  I  am  not  quite  certain,  that  he 
actually  died  in  prison.  However,  I  had  a  long  and 
interesting  talk  with  him,  when  he  gave  me  some  thrill- 
ing details  of  his  adventurous  career,  of  which,  I  may 


ODDS    AND    ENDS  301 

add,  he  was  not  in  the  least  ashamed  or  unwilling  to 
speak.  One  incident  stands  out  very  clearly  in  my 
memory.  It  appeared  that  many  years  ago  he  was  a  con- 
vict in  Woking  Prison.  Now,  for  some  reason  or  other 
the  Governor  conceived,  so  he  declared,  a  great  hatred 
for  him,  which  he  frequently  manifested  in  the  most 
cruel  manner.  I  didn't  think  much  of  this,  as  I  dare 
say  most  convicts  say  the  same  of  the  men  who  are 
put  over  them.  However,  be  that  as  it  may,  Williams 
hated  the  Governor,  and  determined  that  when  he  was 
free  he  would  one  day  pay  off  the  heavy  debt  which 
he  considered  existed  between  them.  A  week  after 
his  release,  therefore,  he  went  down  from  London,  one 
winter  night,  determined  to  kill  the  Governor.  Arrived 
at  the  Governor's  house,  he  contrived,  easily  enough, 
to  break  his  way  in,  and,  taking  off  his  shoes  and  draw- 
ing a  dagger  from  his  trousers,  he  carefully  crept  up- 
stairs. He  guessed  at  once  which  was  the  Governor's 
bedroom,  and,  turning  the  handle,  he  quietly  stepped 
in.  The  gas  was  burning  low,  and  he  discerned,  as  he 
thought,  the  form  of  his  enemy  stretched  in  calm  and 
dreamless  slumber  on  the  bed.  Stealing  up  to  the 
Governor's  side  and  clutching  the  dagger  in  his  hand, 
he  prepared  to  strike  the  fatal  blow,  when,  on  a  nearer 
inspection,  he  realized  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of 
a  dead  man.  His  ancient  and  bitter  foe  lay  dead 
before  him.  The  dagger  dropped  from  his  hands, 
and  muttering  to  himself,  "  Death  forgives  hevery- 
think  " — as  he  very  dramatically  put  it  to  me  in 
relating  the  story — he  quickly  and  quietly  quitted  the 
room,  sneaked  back  along  the  Basingstoke  Canal  to 
Woking  Station,  and  regained  the  streets  of  London, 
with,  "  Thank  Gord  !  my  'and's  guiltless  of  the  blood 
of  a  feller-creature — and  me,  that  loved  'is  little  girl 
as  though  she  was  my  own  !  " 


302  ODDS    AND    ENDS 

Don't  laugh,  but  do  you  believe  in  black  cats? 

I  do  !  I  am  not  superstitious,  but  I  will  tell  you  why 
I  believe  they  really  bring  you  good  luck.  Ostlers 
and  actors  and  many  others  I  could  name  are  enthusi- 
astic believers  in  the  luck  that  black  cats  bring.  Now, 
let  me  tell  my  experiences  of  black  cats.  For  many 
years  I  have  enjoyed  the  friendship  of  the  famous 
trainer  Alfred  Day,  and  I  have  often  stayed  with  him 
at  his  charming  establishment  near  Arundel.  A  few 
years  ago  he  had  a  very  famous  horse  in  his  stables 
called  Master  Willy.  And  one  day  when  I  was 
stopping  there  the  whole  stable  was  in  a  great  state  of 
excitement  owing  to  the  fact  that  on  the  very  eve 
of  Master  Willy's  departure  for  Epsom,  where  he  was 
entered  for  a  race  on  the  following  day,  an  enormous 
black  cat  was  seen  to  emerge  from  the  trough  of 
Master  Willy's  stall.  On  the  following  day  he  ran  a 
glorious  race,  and  won  easily  at  long  odds.  I  was 
stopping  there  at  the  time,  but  had  not  seen  the  cat. 
On  the  Saturday  morning  two  of  my  friend  Day's 
horses  departed  in  order  to  run  that  afternoon  at 
Kempton,  and  one  of  them,  named  Royal  River, 
was  thought  to  have  a  very  good  chance  in  the  4.30 
race,  but  it  was  surmised  that  the  other  horse  would 
be  beaten  by  a  horse  whom  we  will  call  Fairy  Hill, 
as  I  can't  remember  the  exact  name  at  the  moment. 
I  may  here  mention  that  my  friend's  stable  is  not 
what  is  termed  a  betting  stable — indeed,  both  Day  and 
his  wife  considers  betting  rather  a  mug's  game,  to  put 
it  plainly — and  so,  without  letting  them  know  what  I 
was  doing,  I  went  to  the  Slindon  post-office  on  the 
Saturday  morning  and  sent  Mr.  Goodson,  the  well- 
known  bookie,  a  wire,  in  which  I  backed  Fairy  Hill 
and  Royal  River  for  a  double  event,  a  thing  I  had 
never   done    before    or    since   in   the    whole    course   of 


ODDS    AND    ENDS  303 

my  life.  Mr.  Day  left  for  Kempton  with  strict  in- 
junctions from  myself  to  send  me  a  wire  from  the 
course  at  the  termination  of  the  races.  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  taking  Mrs.  Day  that  afternoon  to  Bognor, 
It  necessitated  our  driving  to  Barnham  Junction  station, 
a  distance  of  three  miles,  putting  up  the  horse  and 
trap  at  the  little  inn  there,  and  taking  train  to  Bognor. 
My  mind  the  whole  afternoon  wandered  naturally 
enough  to  Kempton  Park  and  to  speculations  as  to 
what  my   two   horses    were  doing. 

We  left  Bognor  by  the  4.30  train,  the  exact  time  of 
Royal  River's  race.    We  were  back  in  Barnham  Junc- 
tion station  at  4.45,  and  about  ten  minutes  afterwards 
we  started  for  "  The  Hermitage,"  Mr.  Day's  house.     I 
was  driving,  and  some  few  minutes  after  our  start  I  sud- 
denly saw  an  animal  quietly  walk  out  from  the  hedge, 
and  down  it  sat  in  the  very  middle  of  the  road — a  huge 
black   cat,    evidently   the   cat.      It   looked  hard   at  me, 
and  then   deliberately   bowed,   as  cats  do,   three  times 
in  my  direction.      It   then  crawled  leisurely  back   into 
the    hedge,    and    we    continued    our    drive    homewards. 
For   some   unaccountable    reason,    as   the   cat   bowed    I 
looked   at    my   watch,    and   it   happened   to    be   exactly 
three   minutes    past    five    o'clock.      A   telegram   in    due 
course   arrived,    announcing   that   both   Fairy   Hill   and 
Royal  River  had  won.     But  the  whole  point  of  my  story 
lies   in   the   fact    that   I    subsequently   heard   from  Day 
that  his  horse  in  the  first  race  had  really  beaten  Fairy 
Hill,  but  that  an  objection  had  been  raised,  which  was 
sustained,    and    that    the    race    had    been    awarded    to 
Fairy    Hill,    the    horse    I    had    backed.      And    a    more 
important    point    was    that,    in    consequence    of    Royal 
River's    extraordinary    conduct    at    the    Post,    the    race 
timed  for  4.30  did  not  take  place  till  some  time  later, 
and  when  the  cat   bowed  to  me  it  was  at  the  precise 


304  ODDS    AND    ENDS 

moment  when  Royal  River   romped   in  an  easy  winner 
at    5.3. 

On  another  occasion  I  owed  a  big  slice  of  luck  to 
the  timely  interference  of  a  black  cat.  It  was  as 
follows  : — 

Once  upon  a  time  I  was  guilty  of  dabbling,  as  it 
is  termed,  on  the  Stock  Exchange,  with,  however,  so 
much  bad  luck  that  finally  I  declared  I  would  have 
no  more  to  do  with  it.  But  one  morning  in  Windsor 
just  after  the  post  had  arrived^  and  which  had  only 
brought  me  one  letter  suggesting  the  purchase  of  shares 
in  some  company,  I  had  at  the  moment  cast  the  letter 
contemptuously  and  impatiently  from  me,  and  went  at 
that  moment  and  pulled  up  the  blind  of  my  bedroom 
window.  There  on  the  lawn  in  front  of  me,  with 
eyes  of  brilliant  yellow  fixed  upon  me,  was  an  enor- 
mous black  cat  which  I  had  never  seen  before.  Three 
times  did  it  bow  to  me^  and  then  it  scampered  away, 
as  though,  having  accomplished  its  errand,  it  was  only 
too  anxious  to  get  back  to  its  proper  duties  and  its 
proper  place.  I  took  up  the  rejected  letter  again  and 
read  it  carefully  through  ;  then  I  took  train  to  town 
and  betook  myself  to  the  stockbroker's  office,  bought 
some  of  the  shares  he  had  recommended,  which  imme- 
diately rose  several  points,  and  which  I  sold  on  the 
subsequent  day  for  a  large  profit. 

I  could  tell  more  black  cat  stories,  and  how  the 
darlings  have  always  been  on  my  side,  but  I  will 
refrain. 

Sir  George  Alexander  will  be  amused  to  hear  of 
the  following  incident  which  took  place  on  a  certain 
Good  Friday  within  the  last  five  years.  At  the  time 
I  frankly  confess  I  was  perfectly  furious.  I  am  a 
strong  Churchman,  and  to  me  Good  Friday  is  the  most 
solemn   and   sacred   day    in   the  whole   year,    and   that 


ODDS    AND    ENDS  305 

the  incident  which  I  now  relate  should  have  taken 
place  on  that  day  was  most  distressing.  But  time  heals 
wounds  and  assuages  annoyances,  and  I  confess  that 
much  as  I  was  then  distressed  I  can  now  see  that  the 
incident  was  not  without  a  certain  humorous  side  to 
it.  As  is  so  well  known,  the  Bishop  of  London  has  for 
some  years  past  been  in  the  habit  of  either  himself 
holding,  or  permitting  to  be  held,  certain  special  ser- 
vices in  the  theatres  on  Good  Friday  evening.  I  need 
scarcely  add  that  in  this  good  work  he  has  been  man- 
fully assisted,  by  all  means  in  their  power,  by  the 
different  theatrical  managers  in  London.  Now  it  so 
happened  that  on  this  particular  Good  Friday  the  special 
service,  which  was  organized  by  a  well-known  London 
clergyman  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood,  and  which 
was  conducted  by  the  Rt.  Rev.  Bishop  Taylor-Smith, 
Chaplain-General  to  the  Forces,  took  place  at  the 
London  Pavilion,  and  I  was  one  of  the  stewards 
appointed  to  help  in  the  arrangements.  So  1  was  in 
the  theatre  at  the  commencement  of  this  extraordinary 
incident,  and  only  obtained  full  details  after  the  service. 
However,  I  will  relate  them  as  they  actually  occurred. 
The  clergyman  to  whom  I  have  already  referred,  and 
who  shall  be  nameless  in  this  record,  was  just  quitting 
his  church  hard  by  the  Pavilion  and  next  door  to  the 
Trocadero  when  suddenly  a  certain  individual,  who  it 
subsequently  transpired  was  on  what  is  vulgarly  termed 
a  "  gin-crawl,"  barged  into  him  on  the  very  steps  of 
the  church,  evidently  under  the  supposition  that  it 
was  another  entrance  into  the  Trocadero  bar,  which 
he  had  just  quitted.  My  friend  the  parson  glanced 
at  the  new-comer,  and  thinking  he  recognized  a  very 
famous  actor,  whom  this  man  certainly  resembled,  he 
said  to  him — 

*'  Oh,     Mr.     Alexander,     I     hope     you     have     come 

21 


3o6  ODDS    AND    ENDS 

to  the  special  service  which  is  being  held  at  the 
Pavilion." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  gin-crawler,  "  I  shall  be 
delighted.  May  I  bring  my  secretary  with  me?  "  turn- 
ing to  and  at  the  same  time  introducing  a  very  dapper 
young  man  with  an  eye-glass  and  very  glossy  silk  hat. 

"  By  all  means,"  replied  the  parson  ;  "  come  this 
way." 

"  I  hope  you  will  come  and  see  me  in  '  The  Prisoner 
of  Zenda,'  "  said  th,e  inebriated  one,  who  was  not,  how- 
ever, so  inebriated  but  that  he  could  easily  take  in  so 
simple-minded  and  inexperienced  a  man — on  these 
matters,    at    all    events — as    my   friend    the    parson. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  but  we  won't  trouble  about  that 
now." 

"  Well,  I  hope  you  will  come,  and  pray  bring  all  your 
choir  with  you,  and  they  shall  have  the  best  stalls  in  the 
theatre." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  but  I  don't  think  we  can  discuss 
such  a  matter  now.  Let  me  show  you  to  a  seat  on  the 
platform,"  and  as  he  spoke  my  clerical  friend  plumped 
down  "  Mr.  Alexander  "  next  to  the  Chaplain -General 
himself,  whispered  an  introduction  to  the  good  Bishop, 
at  the  same  time  handing  "  Mr.  Alexander  "  a  paper 
of  the  special  hymns. 

And  here  is  where  I  come  in.  At  a  first  glance  so 
startling  was  the  man's  resemblance  to  the  well-known 
actor  that  I  also  was  taken  in  and  quite  imagined  that 
it  was  Mr.  Alexander  himself  who  had  been  led  to  the 
front  with  such  empressement  by  the  Vicar,  and  I  quite 
realized  the  propriety  of  one  of  our  leading  actors  being 
assigned  such  prominence  of  place  and  position  at  what 
was,  after  all,  a  theatrical  service.  In  fact,  after  the 
first  glance>  I  took  no  further  notice  until  I  was  startled 
by   a   very    loud   and   emphatic   voice,    which,    literally 


ODDS    AND    ENDS  307 

drowning  the  good  Bishop's,  led  the  whole  of  that  vast 
audience  in  the  recitation  of  the  General  Confession. 
I  gazed  anxiously  at  the  platform  and  then  at  my 
friend's  curate,  who  was  acting  with  me  as  one  of  the 
stewards. 

"  I  had  no  idea  Mr.  Alexander  was  such  a  fervently 
religious  man,"  whispered  the  dear  innocent.  "  He  is 
rather  audible,  isn't  he,  but  still  it  is  delightful  to  see 
an  actor  so  openly  and  unashamedly  religious." 

But  my  suspicions  by  now  were  thoroughly  aroused. 
No  one  who  knows  his  exceptional  modesty  of 
demeanour  could  possibly  imagine  Mr.  George 
Alexander  so  vulgarly  asserting  himself,  even  at  a 
religious  service,  and  when,  the  moment  after,  the 
Bishop  rose  from  his  knees  and  gave  out  the  hymn, 
"  Onward,  Christian  Soldiers,"  and  the  supposed  "  Mr. 
Alexander  "  burst  into  even  more  fervid  song,  beating 
time  with  his  secretary's  stick,  which  he  had  snatched 
out  of  that  really  disgusted  and  much  startled  gentle- 
man's hand,  I  realized  the  complete  horror  of  the 
occasion. 

"  That's  not  George  Alexander  I  "  I  whispered,  in  a 
fever  of  indignation  to  my  friend  the  curate  ;  "  that's  a 
drunken  impostor,"  I  went  on,  as  the  charlatan  upon  the 
platform  started  a  kind  of  military  march  up  and  down 
before  the  whole  audience,  who,  suspecting  nothing 
whatever,  were  literally  set  on  fire  by  the  fervid  voice 
and  actions  of  a  man  whom  they,  one  and  all,  sincerely 
believed  to  be  the  popular  actor -manager  of  the  St. 
James's  Theatre. 

Fortunately  the  hymn  came  to  an  end,  as  all  earthly 
joys  and  all  earthly  sorrows  do,  and  I  breathed  once 
again,  till  the  horrible  thought  struck  me,  *'  Will  he 
attempt  to  interrupt  the  Bishop  during  his  address?  " 

A  very  natural  anxiety  under  the  circumstances.      I 


3o8  ODDS    AND    ENDS 

am  bound  to  add,  however,  that,  contrary  to  my  worst 
fears  and  expectations,  "  Mr.  Alexander  "  was  so  sub- 
dued by  Bishop  Taylor's  eloquent  address,  or  so  wearied 
by  his  manifold  exertions  during  the  evening,  that  long 
before  the  Chaplain-General  had  finished,  he  was  fast 
asleep  in  the  land  of  dreams,  whence  he  was  aroused 
at  the  conclusion  of  the  service  by  his  secretary,  who 
took  him  away  as  quietly  as  was  possible  under  the 
circumstances.  I  shall  never  forget  that  Good  Friday, 
nor  can  I  ever  see  the  real  Simon  Pure  without  a 
shudder  at  the  thought  how  nearly  his  imitator, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  had  brought  us  to  the  very 
verge  of  disaster. 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

AND   LAST 

I  SOMETIMES  lie  awake  at  night,  and  in  a  sort  of 
dreamlike  procession,  and  with  all  the  sudden  un- 
expectedness and  inconsequence  of  a  dream,  the  myriad 
peoples  and  personages  I  have  met  pass  before  me, 
and  then  I  realize  with  a  certain  curious  vividness,  that 
only  comes  to  me  in  the  watches  of  the  night,  the 
wonderful  and  many-coloured  variety  and  romance  of 
human  life.  Curiously  enough  "  these  visions  upon  my 
head,"  as  Daniel  so  well  phrased  it,  appeared  with 
added  vividness  to  me  only  last  night  ;  and  in  what 
seemed  to  me,  in  somewhat  humorous  connection  with 
this  special  work  upon  which  I  have  been  engaged 
for  so  many  weeks  past,  two  or  three  personalities, 
whom  I  have  not  previously  mentioned  in  this  book  and 
for  whose  deeply  interesting  personalities  I  nevertheless 
retain  the  greatest  liking  and  respect,  came  very  promi- 
nently into  my  mind.  Take,  for  instance,  Sir  Alfred 
Scott  Gatty,  to  whom,  by  the  by,  I  have  very  dis- 
tantly alluded  ;  you  cannot  picture  a  more  accomplished 
person  or  one  more  gifted  in  many  respects  than  he. 
Have  you  ever  heard  him  at  a  Royal  Succession  Procla- 
mation declaiming  the  splendid  Old  English  pronounce- 
ment from  the  Throne?  How  well  he  looks,  clad  in  the 
handsome  and  ancient  costume  of  Garter  King  of  Arms, 
with  his  handsome,  clean-shaven  face  and  well-cut 
features    outlined    sharp    and    clear    against    the    very 


3IO  AND   LAST 

modern  gaping  Cockney  crowd,  above  whom  he  towers 
upon  his  splendidly  caparisoned  steed.  Or  else  I  picture 
him  to  myself  in  his  own  house,  where  he  is  always 
an  ideal  host,  singing  to  his  charming  wife's  accompani- 
ment of  some  of  his  own  delightful  songs.  Alfred  Scott 
Gatty  is  indeed  a  friend  to  value,  and  one  of  whom 
any  man  may  well  be  proud. 

He  is  devoted  to  children,  and  he  is  always  over- 
flowing with  the  most  amusing  anecdotes  in  connection 
with  them.      Here  is  one  : — 

A  little  girl  had  just  made  such  an  extraordinary 
announcement,  not  to  say  told  such  an  appalling  lie, 
to  her  mother,  that  that  good  lady  said  to  her  in 
horror — 

"  But,  my  dear  child,  don't  you  know  you  must  never 
tell  stories?  Children  who  tell  stories  never  go  to 
heaven." 

"  Well,  but  mummy,  did  you  and  daddy  never  tell 
stories?  " 

"  Never,  darling,  at  least  very  few,  and  we  never 
do  now." 

"  But  most  children  tell  stories,  don't  they,  mummy?  " 

"  Yes,  darling,  1  fear  they  do,  but  you  mustn't  or 
you'll  never  get  to  heaven." 

"  Oh,  well,  mummy,  then  I  would  rather  go  to  hell 
than  be  in  heaven  all  alone  with  only  God  and  George 
Washington  !  " 

Another  story,  also  dealing  with  a  child's  ideas  on 
theology,  immensely  appealed  to  me  when  Gatty  told 
it  me  one   day. 

A  certain  little  boy— very  tiny — whose  mother  was 
always  impressing  upon  him  the  importance  of  utter 
truthfulness  and  of  always  playing  the  game,  gave 
a  remarkable  instance  of  the  manner  in  which  even 
a   child   may    be   able    to    resist   the    strongest    tempta- 


AND   LAST  311 

tion.  His  mother  was  busy  preparing  for  a  children's 
party,  and  she  had  placed  a  number  of  beautiful  sweets, 
and  bunches  of  grapes,  and  chocolates  on  the  mantel- 
piece in  the  dining-room,  when  suddenly  she  heard  her 
little  boy  descending  the  stairs.  She  at  once  slipped 
behind  the  door,  wondering  what  he  would  do  when  he 
saw  all  the  grand  display  of  dainty  sweets,  etc.,  on  the 
mantelpiece.  She  hadn't  to  wait  long,  for  as  soon  as  he 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  glittering  pile,  he  fetched 
a  chair  and  getting  on  to  it,  he  reached  up  to  the 
chocolate-box,  from  which  he  quickly  drew  out  a  whole 
handful  of  sweetmeats,  and  then,  pocketing  a  bunch  of 
grapes,  he  silently  quitted  the  room.  His  mother,  sad- 
dened and  horrified,  was  just  about  to  leave  the  room, 
when  suddenly  the  child  returned.  She  again  hid  behind 
the  door,  and  with  aching  heart  awaited,  as  she  feared, 
a  further  theft  on  his  part.  But  no  such  thing  !  Climb- 
ing on  to  the  chair  again,  he  took  out  every  single 
chocolate  from  his  pocket  and  carefully  replaced  each 
one  in  the  box  from  which  he  had  taken  it,  and  as 
carefully  replaced  the  bunch  of  grapes  he  had  stolen  ; 
and  then,  climbing  down  again,  he  stood  and  shook  his 
fist  at  the  mantelpiece,  as  he  said,  "  Sold  again,  Satan, 
sold  again,  you  old  black  beast  !  " 

I  am  grieved  to  hear  that  my  old  friend  Sir  Thomas 
Bucknill,  the  famous  judge,  is  so  ill,  and  I  earnestly  and 
sincerely  trust  that  by  the  time  these  lines  appear  in 
print  he  will  once  again  have  joined  the  large  circle 
of  friends  who  love  and  admire  him  as  they  love  and 
admire  very  few  people  on  earth.  He  is  a  splendid 
specimen  of  an  English  gentleman,  a  sportsman  to 
his  finger-tips,  and  withal  a  very  fine  judge,  not  only 
of  his  fellow-men  but  of  dogs  and  horses.  On  the 
Bench  he  is  characterized  by  the  possession  of  sound 
common   sense,   a  great   capacity  for   human  sympathy 


312  AND    LAST 

and  for  absolute  impartiality  and  justice,  qualities  which 
are  not  quite  so  common  as  we  are  apt  to  imagine, 
for  the  simple  reason  that  it  is  enormously  difficult  for 
even  an  English  judge  entirely  to  eliminate  the  per- 
sonal equation,  which,  nevertheless,  it  is  absolutely 
essential  he  should  do  if  perfectly  even-handed  justice 
is  to  be  administered  from  the  Bench.  But  Mr.  Justice 
Bucknill's  judgments  contain  not  only  sound  law,  but 
they  are  almost  invariably  characterized  by  sound 
common  sense  and  real  justice  and  an  amazing  sense  of 
fairplay. 

And  the  man  is  like  the  judge  ;  he  is  always  fair- 
minded  and  level-headed,  and  a  great  lover  of  every 
form  and  kind  of  sport.  He  is  a  walking  instance  of 
the  tremendous  value  of  sport  and  games  in  the  forma- 
tion of  character.  Games,  he  always  maintains,  not  only 
help  to  sharpen  and  educate  the  intellect  and  kindle  the 
imagination,  but  they  exercise  an  extraordinarily  discip- 
linary influence  on  the  human  mind.  No  man,  he 
argues,  who  habitually  plays  cricket  and  football  to  the 
highest  and  best  of  his  ability  but  plays  the  game  and 
plays  the  man  in  the  critical  moments  of  human  life. 
And  so  Sir  Thomas  is  always  the  life  and  soul  of  his 
part  of  the  country  where  sports  and  games  are  con- 
cerned ;  and  many  young  men,  in  all  conditions  of  life, 
owe  it  to  him  and  to  his  kindly  encouragement  of  their 
sports  and  games,  or  to  his  deliberate  insistence  that 
they  should  play  games  or  go  in  for  sport  rather  than 
loaf  about  and  idle  away  their  lives  in  the  public -house, 
that  they  have  made  a  success  of  life  instead  of  going 
down  to  the  gutter  in  tragedy  and  gloom.  He  has 
many  a  humorous  story  of  his  experiences  or  of  his 
brother  judges'  experiences  on  the  Bench,  and  here  is 
one  : — 

A  man  was  charged  with  stealing  a  pair  of  trousers, 


AND   LAST  313 

but  his  counsel  set  up  such  a  splendid  defence,  which 
included  such  an  irrefutable  alibi,  that  the  judge  had 
no  option  but  to  discharge  the  prisoner.  The  man,  to 
his  astonishment,   stood   stock   still. 

"  Didn't  you  hear  me  tell  you  you  might  go?  "  said 
the  judge,  whoever  he  was. 

"  Yes,  your  honour,  I  heard  that,  but,"  nervously 
pointing  to  the  plaintiff,  "  I've  got  them  trousers 
on  !" 

Another  friend  of  many  years'  standing  comes  to 
my  memory  —  Raymond  Blathwayt  the  writer.  I 
always  regard  him  as  one  of  the  most  silent  men  of 
my  acquaintance,  and  yet  he  is  one  of  the  finest  after- 
dinner  speakers  and  platform  orators  I  have  ever 
heard  ;  witty,  full  of  anecdote,  crammed  with  humour, 
and  possessed  of  a  very  fine  delivery — clear,  decisive, 
appealing  to  an  extraordinary  extent  to  men,  women, 
and  even  children — he  is  one  of  the  most  delightful 
speakers  to  listen  to  I  have  ever  heard.  Only  a  few 
months  ago  I  heard  him  deliver  a  heart-stirring  address 
to  the  Women  Signallers  Territorial  Corps  at  Queen's 
Hall,  and  every  one  present  declared  it  was  the  speech 
of  the  day.  Curiously  enough  I  have  never  heard 
him  laugh,  and  yet  never  in  all  my  life  have  I  ever 
met  any  one  with  so  absolutely  fresh  and  keen  a  sense 
of  humour  and  so  quaint  and  original  an  outlook  on 
life.  Blathwayt  tells  some  amusing  yarns  of  the  days 
when  he  was  a  very  young  curate  in  the  'eighties  in  the 
East  End. 

One  stormy  midnight  he  was  sent  for  in  a 
great  hurry  by  an  old  woman  in  the  alms-houses. 
"  Naturally  I  grumbled  a  little,"  he  said,  "  when  1 
found  I  wasn't  wanted  at  all."  7^o  which  the  old  lady 
vigorously  replied — 

"  '  And  wot's   the  curick  for   I    should   like  to   know 


314  AND    LAST 

if  he  isn't  to  come  at  once  whenever  'e's  sent  for  at 
any  hour  of  the  day  or  night?  Them's  the  Vicar's 
orders,  Mr.  Blackpool,  and  well  you  knows  it  !  ' 

"  *  Well,  Mrs.  Smith,'  I  meekly  replied,  for  she  was 
ninety-five  and  1  was  twenty-five,  '  he's  not  to  be 
used  to  wind  up  your  confounded  old  eight-day  clock 
at  two  on  a  winter's  morning,  anyway  !  ' 

"  Once  I  was  disturbed  at  breakfast  by  the  advent 
of  a  very  sodden  and  lachrymose  individual. 

"  '  Well,  Bill,'  I  said,  '  drunk  again?  ' 

"  '  No,  sir,'  tearfully  replied  my  visitor  ;  '  it's  not 
that,'  and  then,  breaking  out  into  a  howl,  he  cried, 
'  She's  gone,  sir,  my  poor  wife — took  off  sudden-like, 
sir,  and  I  ain't  got  a  penny  to  bury  'er  with  !  Can't 
you  let  me  'ave  enough  to  buy  'er  coffin,  sir,  so  as  to 
keep   'er  off  the  parish?  ' 

"  A  sound  at  the  open  door  attracted  my  attention.  I 
raised  my  eyes  and  beheld  a  perfectly  infuriated 
female. 

"  '  Coffin  1  '  she  shouted  ;  '  'c'll  want  one  afore  I've 
done  with  'im  1  " 

"  And  he  very  nearly  did." 

Speaking  of  Blathwayt  reminds  me  of  the  Imperial 
Rifle  Club,  a  mixed  club,  of  which  he  was  a  member 
and  which  was  founded  and  carried  on  by  a  marvellous 
little  lady— Miss  Eva  Fenton,  a  cousin  of  Lord 
Kitchener  and  a  daughter  of  the  late  Colonel  Fenton. 
Miss  Fenton  really  is  an  experience  ;  she  is  an  event 
in  a  lifetime,  and  I  may  add  a  very  delightful  one  ;  an 
astonishing,  an  astounding  person  who  takes  your  breath 
away  merely  to  write  about  her.  A  delicate  little 
person,  very  nice-looking,  and  quite  pleasant  to  men, 
especially  in  khaki,  amongst  whom  she  is  supremely 
popular.  She  is  never  still  for  a  moment,  never  at 
rest,  never  without  some  mighty  undertaking  in  hand. 


AND   LAST  315 

She  it  was  who,  with  Major  Tudor  Craig,  practically 
ran  the  splendid  Army  pageant  at  Fulham  some  five 
years  ago,  and  she  it  is  who  encourages  and  incites 
aviators  and  motorists  and  submarinists  and  other  dare- 
devils to  more  deeds  of  'pluck  and  recklessness  than 
ever  did  Cleopatra  or  Helen  of  Troy  or  Jane  Shore — 
if  the  latter  ever  did,  poor  dear  !  and  perhaps  in 
any  case  she  is  not  respectable  enough  to  name  in 
Eva  Fenton's  company.  She  is  one  of  the  finest  rifle 
shots  in  the  kingdom,  and  has  established  ladies'  rifle 
clubs  all  over  the  kingdom,  frequently  taking  a  team 
down  to  Bisley  all  on  her  own  ;  she  is  utterly  inde- 
pendent and  yet  bitterer  against  the  Suffragettes  than 
any  one  I  can  think  of  at  the  "moment.  Miss  Fenton 
has  that  curious,  intangible,  inexplicable,  and  unac- 
quirable  quahty  of  popularity  which  stands  her  in  good 
stead  in  her  many  adventurous  exploits  and  under- 
takings. For,  as  I  say,  she  always  has  something  in 
hand,  whether  it  is  organizing  a  mass  meeting  at  the 
Albert  Hall  or  getting  a  Bishop's  son  a  Second  Lieu- 
tenant's commission  in  the  Army  Service  Corps ;  indeed, 
it  is  popularly  asserted  amongst  her  admirers,  who  if  they 
were  stretched  in  a  row  would  reach  from  Charing  Cross 
to  Barking  Creek,  that  the  War  Oflice  clerks  scarcely 
dare  cross  the  road  without  her  permission,  although 
they  are  frequently  seen  flying  across  it  if  she  is  wait- 
ing for  them  on  the  other  side.  At  the  present  moment 
she  is  getting  up  at  five  o'clock  every  morning  in 
order  that  she  may  drive  a  motor-van  down  to  the 
Victoria  Docks  to  fetch  food  for  the  Belgian  refugees. 
It  is  far  safer  to  chase  a  Zeppelin  in  an  aeroplane  than 
to  sit  behind  Eva  when  she  is  crossing  Ludgate  Circus 
and  shaving  every  cart  she  passes  by  the  breadth  of 
a  mere  hair.  But  she's  as  plucky  as,  and  pluckier, 
so  a  noted  hunting-man  once  told  me,  than  any  single 


3i6  AND   LAST 

member  or  two  members  rolled  into  one  of  the  Quorn 
and  the   Pytchley   Hunts. 

I  may  add  that  she  loves  going  to  the  theatre  and 
that  she  never  breaks  an  engagement — unless — well, 
perhaps  1  had  better  leave  it  at  that  ! 

Harry  de  Windt,  soldier,  adventurer,  explorer, 
writer,  and  lecturer,  with  his  smart,  trim  figure — the 
figure  of  a  youth  of  eighteen,  though  Harry  himself 
is  in  his  fifty-ninth  year — is  one  of  the  most  delightful 
and  one  of  the  most  thoroughly  interesting  men  I  have 
ever  met.  He  always  reminds  me  of  either  one  of 
Ouida's  delightful  Guardsmen  or  else  of  Max  Linder 
of  cinematograph  fame.  He  is  as  accomplished,  as 
highly  bred,  and  as  smart  to  look  at  as  one  of  Ouida's 
glittering  heroes  ;  he  is  as  vivacious  as  Max  Linder, 
of  whom,  as  I  say,  he  is  curiously  and  at  times  start- 
lingly  reminiscent. 

He  is  a  capital  lecturer  and  always  enthrals  his 
audiences,  whether  that  audience  consists  of  a  fashion- 
able crowd  of  high-class  Londoners  at  St.  James's  Hall 
or  a  mass  of  rough-hewn,  grimy  Newcastle  colliers. 
The  adventurer,  the  explorer,  the  reckless  dare-devil 
in  the  man's  pungent  and  vivid  personality  appeal  to 
the  common  humanity  in  the  two  so  widely  differing 
audiences :  the  only  class  that  would  not  really  appre- 
ciate him,  that  would,  indeed,  be  a  little  apt  to  be 
shocked,  certainly  if  they  knew  him,  would  be  an 
audience  of  Dissenters  in  the  provinces.  They  would 
have  no  use  for  Harry,  nor  he  for  them.  He  brims 
over  with  anecdote  and  is  always  the  life  of  his  com- 
pany wherever  he  may  be,  though  I  doubt  if  his  fellow- 
members  of  the  very  stiff  and  starchy  old-fashioned 
Service  Club  really  appreciate  him,  and  I  am  quite 
sure  they  don't  believe  half  his  stories — for  the  matter 
of  that   I   don't  myself — but   they  are  really  frightened 


AND    LAST  317 

of  him.  His  superabundant  spirits  and  his  utter  lack 
of  conventionality  startle  and  horrify  them,  but  even 
with  them  he  is  popular  ;  at  the  most  he  is  with  them 
the  enfant  gate  that  I  suppose  he  has  been  with  every- 
body all  his  life. 

I  saw  him  only  the  other  day.  He  had 
just  returned  from  France,  where  he  succeeded  in 
getting  a  far-off  peep,  as  it  were,  of  what  is  going 
on  in  the  Great  War.  He  told  me  some  of  his 
experiences. 

"  The  other  day,"  he  said,  "  I  went  to  Alsace  for 
a  London  paper.  While  at  Belfort  I  was  allowed 
to  drive  out  to  the  trenches  with  a  chasseur  Alpin  as 
my  chauffeur.  We  got  to  where  we  could  see  the 
German  batteries  firing  and  also  in  the  distance  Prince 
Eitel  Fritz's  headquarters.  I  remarked  to  the  little 
chasseur  Alpin  who  drove  me — 

"  '  They  say  the  Germans  are  burning  all  their  dead.' 

"  But  the  little  man  replied — 

"'Don't  believe  it;  the  Boches  are  too  stingy  for 
that  ;  they  are  making  them  into  sausages  !  '  And 
this  he  said  quite  seriously." 

Another  story  he  told  me  amused  me  immensely. 

"  A  year  and  a  half  ago  when  in  Algiers  I  was 
playing  the  piano  one  evening  in  the  smoking-room 
of  the  Hotel  Excelsior.  The  only  other  occupant  of 
the  room  was  an  old  gentleman  in  a  velvet  skull- 
cap, seated  in  an  arm-chair  smoking  a  long,  thin 
cigar.  I  played  some  Russian  airs,  one  of  which  the 
old  man  asked  me  to  repeat,  which  I  did,  afterwards 
explaining  to  the  poor  old  dear  the  subtle  beauties  of 
the  composition  as  he  looked  incapable  of  appreciating 
good  music.  This,  however,  he  seemed  rather  to  resent, 
and  shortly  after  left  the  room.  Later  on  I  asked 
the  porter  who  he  was.     The  man  threw  up  his  hands 


3i8  AND    LAST 

in  astonishment.  '  Is  it  possible  you  don't  know 
monsieur?  '  he  exclaimed.  '  Why,  that  is  our  illus- 
trious composer  the  famous  Saint-Saens.  He  is  con- 
ducting his  own  great  work  "  Samson  and  Delilah  " 
at  his  opera  this  evening.'  I  played  the  piano  no  more 
in  that  smoking-room  ! 

When  I  come  to  think  of  it  I  am  amazed  by  the  vast 
changes  that  have  crept  over  London  since  I  first  knew 
it.  In  those  not  so  very  far-off  days  Disraeli  and  Glad- 
stone were  nearing  the  end  of  their  historic  antagonism  ; 
Carlyle,  Dean  Stanley,  Cardinal  Manning,  George  Eliot, 
Lord  Tennyson,  Browning,  Herbert  Spencer,  Huxley, 
and  half  a  hundred  more  still  lingered  grandly  on  the 
scene.  In  the  great  world  of  society  one  saw  the 
beautiful  Lady  Gladys  Lonsdale,  now  Lady  Ripon,  Lady 
Charles  Beresford  and  her  sister  Mrs.  Gerald  Paget, 
Mrs.  Langtry,  Mrs.  Cornwallis  West,  who  was  such 
a  friend  of  the  Prince  and  Princess  Edward  of  Saxe- 
Weimar  ;  Colonel  Charles  Buller,  of  the  2nd  Life 
Guards,  and  even  Admiral  Rous  and  his  old  chum 
George  Payne  had  not  finally  vanished  from  the  racing 
circles,  where  they  were  once  the  greatest  figures  that 
the  sporting  world  has  ever  known,  though  to  some 
perhaps  the  name  of  their  junior  contemporary  Sir 
John  Astley,  "  the  Mate,"  would  be  even  more  familiar. 

Kipling  and  Wells  and  Jacobs  and  Conrad  and  our 
modern  poets  were  presumably  little  more  than  boys  at 
school,  whilst  Tit-Bits  had  only  just  startled  the  town 
with  a  hint  of  what  the  newer  style  of  journalism  had 
in  store  for  another  and  a  later  generation.  Cinemato- 
graphs, telephones,  wireless  telegraphy,  phonographs, 
and  George  Bernard  Shaw  were  happily  undreamed  of 
even,  and  no  one  had  ever  contemplated  the  possibility 
of  a  working-man  Member  of  Parliament,  though  I 
believe  it  was  just   at   this  time  that  Joseph  Arch,  the 


AND    LAST  319 

Warwickshire  labourer  and  very  redolent  of  the  soil 
of  Shakespeare's  land,  was  accepted  as  a  candidate  for 
a  Norfolk  borough. 

Society,  of  course,  was  not  then  the  mob  it  con- 
fessedly is  to-day,  and  as  a  consequence  it  was  far 
more  interesting  and  much  more  sought  after,  looked 
up  to,  and  venerated  from  afar  than  it  is  in  these 
degenerate  modern  times,  though  I  am  bound  to  admit 
it  has  been  gradually  growing  cleverer  and  more  keenly 
intellectual  than  it  was  in  mid- Victorian  days.  The 
"  souls  "  which  were  so  prominent  in  the  early  'nineties 
and  in  which  Mr.  Balfour,  Miss  Margot  Tennant,  Mr. 
.Wilfred  Mount,  Mr.  Cust,  and  so  many  others  played 
such  notable  parts  aroused  a  vast  amount  of  interest 
in  circles  very  far  removed  from  their  own  very  sub- 
limated and  exclusive  haunts,  and  they  prepared  the 
way  for  the  modern  incursion  of  such  clever  and 
inspiring  young  people  as  the  Duchess  of  Rutland's 
lively  and  beautiful  daughters.  Miss  Cicely  Horner,  Miss 
Viola  Tree,  Mr.  Raymond  Asquith,  the  late  and  ill- 
fated  Sir  Denys  Anson,  most  of  whom  were  brilliant, 
flippant,  perhaps  even  slightly  decadent,  a  little  hard 
and  heartless,  until  suddenly,  as  by  a  thunder-clap, 
they  were  thrust  into  the  realities  of  life  and  time, 
death  and  eternity  by  the  shock  of  this  terrific  war. 
But  I  doubt,  after  all,  if  it  has  had  the  slightest 
spiritual  effect   on   any   one  of  them. 

I  glance  through  what  I  have  written,  and  one 
criticism  comes  to  my  mind  that  I  feel  sure  will  be 
made,  and  it  is  this:  "Oh  yes,  Capper's  book's  all 
very  well  in  its  way,  but  it's  so  infernally  good-natured. 
All  his  geese  are  swans  ;  all  his  days  are  sunny;  why 
doesn't  he  throw  in  a  little  rehef,  even  if  it  is 
shadow?  " 


320  AND    LAST 

Well,  to  begin  with,  I  don't  see  that  it  would  be 
quite  fair.  Why  should  I  butcher  my  friends  to  make 
a  Roman  holiday  for  myself?  They  haven't  asked  me 
to  write  about  them.  Why  should  1  hold  them  up  to 
unkindly  criticism?  I  have  met  some  odious  people 
in  my  time  and  some  great  asses.  Well,  I've  left 
them  out,  that's  all  ;  and  as  for  those  I  have  men- 
tioned, as  Stevenson  so  truly  said— 

There's  so  much  good  in  the  worst  of  us, 
And  so  much  bad  in  the  best  of  us, 

that  really  I  don't  feel  inclined  to  drag  out  only  the 
faults.  I  number  only  the  sunny  hours  of  life.  I 
have  always  had  brilHant  health,  a  magnificent  digestion, 
and  any  amount  of  energy  and  good  spirits,  overflow- 
ing in  all  directions.  So  I  am  a  whole-souled  optimist, 
and  I  make  no  pretensions  to  pessimism.  It  is  a 
happy  rule  in  life  always  to  look  for  the  best.  I 
write  of  people  as  I  find  them,  and  when  a  man  hates 
his  fellows  and  speaks  evil  of  them  I  invariably  find 
that  they  hate  him  and  speak  evil  of  him.  Think  of 
Lord  Byron  writing  at  thirty-three,  the  best  period  of 
a  man's  life — barely  in  his  prime — 

Through  life's  dull  road 

So  dim  and  dirty, 

I  have  dragged  on 

To  three-and-thirty. 

What  have  those  years  left  to  me? 

Nothing  except  thirty-three. 

Again,  I  feel  an  apology  is  due  to  those  among  my 
critics  and  readers  who  have  read  my  book  in  the 
faint  hope  that  it  might  turn  out  to  be  a  learned  dis- 
sertation from  the  pen  of  an  expert  on  the  mystic 
and    the    occult.      Such    have    been    awfully    sold,    and 


AND    LAST  32  1 


I  should  have  felt  guiltily  nervous  in  their  presence 
had  I  not,  I  think,  made  it  fairly  plain  at  the  outset 
that  I  am  no  expert  in  nor  exponent  of  mysticism  in 
any  shape  or  form  whatever.  As  I  have  tried  to 
demonstrate  in  these  simple  pages  more  than  once, 
mine  is  a  rare  and  peculiar  gift  which  is  wholly  apart 
from  any  suggestion  of  mysticism  or  magic  ;  it  is 
a  quality  of  which  I  cannot  give  the  reason  and  for 
which  I  have  no  adequate  or  indeed  any  explanation 
at  all.  With  me  the  whole  question  is  a  matter  of 
£  s.  d.  I  do  not  pretend  that  what  I  do  possesses 
any  scientific  value  or  interest  ;  it  has  brought  me 
a  good  living,  and  it  has  introduced  me  to  many  dear 
and  valued  friends,  and  it  has  conveyed  a  vast  charm, 
and  interest  into  my  life.  Beyond  that  I  cannot  say 
that  thought-reading  possesses  any  quality  which 
places  it  beyond  or  above  that  of  a  clever  taster  of 
butter,  cheese,  wine,  or  tea.  It  is  a  gift,  and  there's 
an   end  to   it. 

It  is  time  I  pulled  the  strings  together  and  drew 
these  memories  to  a  close.  I  hope,  over  and  over 
again,  to  meet  my  readers  and  my  old  friends  face 
to  face,  for  I  am  more  vigorously  enthusiastic  over 
my  life's  work  than  I  have  ever  been  during  the  whole 
of  the  last  thirty  years.  I  simply  love  it,  and  its 
fascination  for  me  increases  rather  than  it  decreases 
with  the  passage  of  the  years. 

One  little  personal  touch  and  I  have  done.  It  is 
the  one  romance  of  my  eventful  life,  and  I  am  sure 
my  readers  will  allow  me  just  to  allude  to  it  in  the 
last  of  these  homely  and  familiar  pages. 

I  had  always  resolved  to  be  a  bachelor.  Twenty- 
two  years  ago,  however,  I  happened  to  meet  a  very 
charming  girl,  eighteen  years  of  age,  and  I  said  to 
myself,    "  That   is   the  only  woman   I   should  ever  care 

22 


322  AND    LAST 

to  marry."  However,  she  wasn't,  apparently,  meant 
for  me,  and  some  one  else  carried  off  the  woman  of 
my  heart.  But  two  years  ago  I  met  her  again,  quite 
unexpectedly.  She  was  a  widow,  but  just  as  attrac- 
tive and  as  charming  as  ever.  The  following  extract 
from  the  Times  supplies  the  sequel  and  gives  all  the 
necessary  details  as  to  the  one  great  romance  of  my 
life.  Like  the  fairy-tale  books  of  my  childhood,  1 
wind  up,  "  And  so  they  were  married  and  lived 
happily    ever    afterwards." 

Extract  from  the  "Times,"  October  23,  1913. 

On  October  22nd,  at  All  Saints,  Margaret  Street,  W,  by  the 
Rt.  Rev.  the  Bishop  of  Willesden,  assisted  by  the  Rev.  and 
Hon.  James  Adderley,  the  Rev.  P.  Alexander  and  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Golding  Bird — Alfred  Capper  to  Bettina  Maud,  daughter  of 
the  late  W.  B.  Partridge,  J. P.,  U.L.,  of  Bacton,  Hereford,  and 
widow  of  the  late  H.  R.  Trafiord,  J. P.,  D.L.,  of  Michaelchurch 
•Court,  Hereford. 


INDEX 


Abergavenny,  Marquis  of,  62 
Adderley,   Rev.  and  Hon.  James,  77, 
125,  204 

"  Life  of  St.  P'rancis  Xavier,"  79 
Adelaide,  296 
Aeroplanes,  74 
Afghans,  221,  237   . 
Agents,  138 
Agostini,  Pere,  206 
Agra,  259 

Missionaries,  262 

Taj  Mahal,  256  set/.,  263 
^\inley,  Henry,  129 
Albany,  Duke  of,  68 
Alchemy,  66 
Alexander,  Sir  George,  304 

Story  of,  false,  305 
Alexandra,  Queen  (Princess  of  Wales), 

49,  51,  52,  113 
Algiers,  317 
Allahabad,  243,  259 
Alpine  passes,  echo  in,  258 
Alsace,  317 
Alva,  Countess,  55,  57 
Ambassador  and  his  son,  152  seq. 
Ames,  Hugo,  158  seq. 

Golden  Key,  159,  160 
Ames,  Mrs.,  158  seq. 

"Gates  of  Hell,"  160 
Anderson,  Percy,  156 
Andrewes,  Lancelot,  86 
Anglicanism,  formative  influence  of,  77 
Anglo-Indian  life,  229,  230  se<j. 
Anson,  Sir  Denys,  319 
Aosta,  Due  d',  55,  57 
Arch,  Joseph,  318 
Archer-Houblon,  Archdeacon,  57 
Argonaut,  167 
Arumugam,  powers  of  calculation,  244, 

245 
Arundel,  302 
Asche,  Oscar,  129 
Ascot,  291 
Asquith,  Mrs.,  165 
Asquith,  Raymond,  319 
Astley,  Sir  John,  318 
Audiences,  121  seq. 

Entertainer,  his  own,  121 

Native,  123 

School,  124 

Theatrical,  74,  128,  129 
Aurungzebed,  Emperor,  230 
Author — 

At  Kempton,  291 

"  Bank  Note  "  performance,  33 

Birth  and  early  years,  17  scij. 


Author  (continued) — 

Breaks  up  political  meeting,  187  seq. 
Commanded  to  Marlborough  House, 

47,  48  seq.  _ 
Demonstration  in  Southampton,  34 
Elephant  ride,  250,  252 
Entrepreneur,  106  seq.,  118 
Exhibition  in  Tuileries,  120 
Experience  of  clergy,  76 
First  entertainments,  15.  23  seq. 
First  London  appearance,  37  seq. ,  47 
Hospitality  received,   138 
Indian  tour,  215,  220  seq. 

First  impressions,  220   225 

Native  and  soldier  audiences,  226 
Joke  against,  223 

Letters  from  Guy  Boothby,  295,  296 
Letters  to   Editor   of    Windsor  and 

Eton  Express,   193 
Marriage,  322 
Mayor  of  Windsor,  194 
On  his  thought-reading,  117. 

See  also  Thought-reading 
Profession,  9,  16,  22  et  passim 

Forebodings  of  relatives,  12 
Residence  in  Windsor,  185  seq.,  290, 

Entertainments,    artists    assisting, 
192 
Story  of  gulls  and  fish,  90,  92 
Taken  for  his  father,  12 
Visions,  309 

Visits  Llanthony  Abbey,  83 
Visits    Paris,    106    seq.  ;    reception, 

112  seq. 
Waifs  and  Strays  entertainments,  1 63 
seq. 
Autographs,  21 
Aylwin,  Jean,  192 

Babu,  Bengali,  254 
Backhouse,  John,  17 
Backhouse,  Katherine,  17 
Balfour,  Rt.  Hon.  Arthur,  64,  319 
Bampfylde,  Mayor  of  Windsor,  194 
Bancroft,  Sir  Squire  and  Lady,  137 
Barrington,  Rutland,  192 
Barrymore,  Maurice,   128 
Bass,  Sir  William,  278 
Bats,  222 

Beaumont  College,  204 
Beethoven,  121 
Begbie,  Harold,  143 
Belfort,  317 

Benedict  XV,   Pope,  attitude    towards 
war,  212 


323 


324 


INDEX 


Bengalis,  228 
Bennett,  Sir  H.  Curtis,  69 
Bennett,  Rev.  John,  69 
Bennett,  Miss,  crystal-gazing,  69 
Benson,  J'l.  F.,  165,  168 
Benson,  F.  R.,  129 
Benson,  Monsignor,  67 
Beresford,  Lady  Charles,  31S 
Bernhardt,  Sarah,  21 

Reception  of  author,    no  sft/.,   116 

St'f/. 

Bertram,  Charles,  192 

Besant,  Mrs.,  219 

Bigge,  Lady,  62 

Birch,  Woodford,  275 

Bird,  Story  of,  299 

Bishop,  Irving,  23 

Bishop,    Irving,   and    H.    Labouchere, 

136,  137 
Black,  Mrs.,  30,  31 
Blacklock,  Henry,  187 
Blathwayl,  R.,  story,  313 
Blessington,  Lady,  154 
Blue  I\.il)hon  Movement,  29  set/. 
Bobrinsky,  Count,  29 
Boddely,  G.  E.,  175 
Bognor,  303 
Bombay,  59,  262 

Byculla  Club,  232 

Mohammedan  quarter,  222 

Ornithologist,   222 

Taj  Mahal  Hotel,  220 

Yacht  Club,  232,  233,  234,  235 
Booth,  "General,"  29,  143 
Boothby,  Guy,  295 
Bottomley,  Horatio — 

Business  Government,  148 

Electioneering  experience,  149,  150 

Qualities,  146,  150 
Bouganvillea,  263 
Bourchier,  Arthur,  125,  192 
Bournemouth,  Ro\al  Bath  Hotel  enter- 
tainment, 135 
Braddon,   M.   E.   (iVIrs.   Maxwell),  68, 

137 
Bradlaugh,  Charles,  84 
Brathwayt,  Raymond,  134 
Bright,  John,  21,  22 
Brinckman,  Rev.  Arthur,  127 
Brinton,  Mr.,  293,  294 
Britan7iia  cntenainmenl,  127 
British  Empire,  citizen  of,  277 
British  Empire,  formation  of,  275 
British  Medical    Association,   perform- 
ance before,  135 
British  officials  in  India,  229,  230 
Brown-l'otter,   Mrs.,  192,  216 
Browning,  Robert,  318 
Buchel,  Charles,  paintings,  140 
Bucknill,  Sir  Thomas,  311 

Story,  312 
Buckstone,  21 
Buddha,  273 
Bull,  Rev.  Paul,  249 


Buller,  Colonel  Charles,  318 
Business  Government,  148 
Butt,  Clara,  133 
Byron,  II.  J.,  297 

Cairo,  256 

Calcutta  Saturday  Club,  232 

Cambridge  Colleges,  128 

Cambridge  crew  at  Cookham,  131 

Cambridge,  Duke  of,  130 

Campbell,  Rev.  R.  J.,  204 

Cannes,  165 

Capper,  Alfred.     See  Author. 

Capper,  Charles,  132,  192 

Capper,  General,  18 

Capper,  General  Thompson,  18 

Capper,  Major  George,  19 

Carlile,  Rev.  Wilson,  164 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  318 

Carrodus,  Leonard,  192 

Catherine  of  Braganza,  43 

Cats,  black,  302,  304 

Cats,  wild,  222 

Cawnpore,  124,  258,  259,  263 

Chamberlain,  Joseph,  131 

Chamounix,  168 

Chaplains  in  Riviera  and  Switzerland, 
164 

Charles  II.,  43 

Cheam,  Tabor's  School,  124 

Chelsea  Club  entertainment,  126 

Chelsea  Hospital,  130 

Chelsea,  Queen's  House,  42,  43 

Chester,  Fred,  192 

Chicago,  14 

Chicago  Spiritualists,  159,  286 

Chichester,  entertainment  at,  288,  289 

Chinese  pigtail  question,  270 

Chiromancy,  70 

Chopin,  65 

Christian,  Prince  and  Princess,  194 

Christian  Science,  70 

Christian  Victor,  Prince,  death,  62 

Christy,  Gerald,   138 

Chulalongkoru,  King  of  Siam,  274 

Church,  Dean,  214 

Cinematograph,  74,  278  seq. 
Educational  value,  284 
"  Prisoner  of  Zenda,"  278  seq. 

Clairvoyance,  69 

Clarence,  Duke  of,  49,  52 

Claretie,  Jules,  1 14 

Clarke,  Sir  Andrew,  275 

Clayton,  John,  128 

Clemens,  sec  Mark  Twain 

Clergy,  76  seq. 

Clerics,  feminine,  96,  97 

Clewer  Sisters,  181  seq. 

Clifford,  Dr.,  205,  228,  232,  233 

Clifford,  Sir  Hugh,  275 

Climate,  effects  of,  169 

Clongowes  Wood  College,  204 

Cobra,  253 

Cocteaux,  Jean,  155 


INDEX 


325 


Coffin,  Hayden,  192 
Coleridge,  Hartley,  quoted,  320 
Collier,  Constance,  141,  155 
Collings,  Herbert,  192 
Collins,  Wilkie,  21 
CoUisson,  Dr.  Houston,  192 
Conjurers,  215,  216 
Connaught,  Duke  of,  274 

Anecdote  of,  59 
Connaught,  Duke  and  Duchess  of,  55, 

Conrad,  Joseph,  318 

"  Almayer's  Folly,"  272 
Cookham,  131 
Cooksey,  J.  H. ,  35 
Cooper,  Margaret,  192,  194 
Corbett,  Rev.  Father,  33 
Cork,  Lord,  94 
Corn wallis- West,  Mrs.,  318 
Costumes,  157 

"Cut,"  156 
Cotes,  Sir  Merton  Russell,  135 
Cox,  Mr.,  35 
Craig,  Major  Tudor,  315 
Crawford,  Mrs.,  on  author's  reception 

in  Paris,  112  seq. 
Creighton,  Bishop  of  London — 

On  clergy,  76 
Cremation,  story  of,  175 
Crookes,  Sir  William,  64 
Crows,  grey,  220 
Crusades,  210 
Crystal-gazing,  69 
Cust,  Mr.,  319 
Cust,  Sir  Charles,  63 

Dak  bungalows,  236 

Dare,  Phyllis,  192 

Darlington,  17 

Darragh,  Mi.ss,  238 

Davenport  Brothers,  23,  286,  287 

Day,  Alfred,  302,  303 

Day,  Mrs.,  303 

Death,  201,  202 

Delhi,  263 

Cambridge  mission,  260 

Durbar,  242 

Great  Mosque,  260 

Tomb  of  Humayun,  260 

Women,  249 
Dews  bury,  manager  of  London   Him 
Co.,      278,      280,      281,      283, 
284 
Disraeli,  B.,  318 
Dissenters  and  Anglicans,  204 
Dissenters,  knowledge  of  human  nature, 

56 
Di.ssenting  parsons,  76 
D'Orsay,  Count,  154 
Dowie,  "  Profit,"  78 
Driver,  Mr.,  23 
Driver,  Rev.  S.  R.,  23 
Dunbar,      Archdeacon      Gordon-Cum- 
ming-  39.  4° 


Eagles,  222,  236 
Eccentricity,  198 
Ediss,  Connie,  192 

Edward  VH  (Prince  of  Wales),  48  seq., 
113,  172,  200 

As  medium,  49  seq. 
Edward  of  Saxe- Weimar,   Prince  and 

Princess,  318 
Eglinton,  slate-writing,  66,  67,  68 
Electricity,  spirit-world  of,  74 
Empress  of  Germany,  Dowager,  61 
Ena  of  Battenberg  (Queen  of  Spain),  62 
Eton  boys,  290 
Eugenie,  Empress,  55,  57 

Reception,  57  seq. 

Fact,  value  of,  96 
Fakirs,  225,  246 
Farkoa,  Maurice,  192,  194 
i   Farm  Street  Church,  211 
Farmer,  General,  scarf-pin,  35 
Farnborough,  reception  at,  57  seq. 
Farrar,  Dean,  41,  42,  165 
Farren,  Nelly,  21,  22 
Faversham,  Mr.,  155 
Featherstone,  Vane,  192 
Fenton,  Eva,  314 
Fever-bird,  264 
Figaro,  on  author,  108,  no 
Fish  and  gulls,  story  of,  90,  92 
Fleming,  Father,  287 
Florence,  210 
Follett,  Sir  Charles,  134 
Fortune-telling  by  cards,  70 
Foxes,  flying,  222 
French,  Percy,  192  ' 

Frimley,  entertainment  at,  54  seq. 
Froude,  Anthony,  251 
Fry,  Elizabeth,  17 
Fulham  army  pageant,  315 
Funeral,  story  of  Vermont,  44 

Gail,  Jane,  279 

Gammon,  Barclay,  192,  194 

Ganthony,  Nelly,  192 

Garnelt-Orme,  Miss,  death,  243 

Gamier,  M.,  114,  115,  116 

George  V  (Duke  of  Vork),  49,  62,  63 

"George  Eliot,"  318 

Gibbs,  Captain  Brandreth,  163  seq. 

Gil  Bias,  115 

Glad.stone,  W.  E.,  21, 130, 131, 172,  318 

On  Eglinton,  67 
Glouvet,  Jules  (Beaurepaire),  114 
Golconda  ruins,  252,  253 
Golden  Key  Society,  159,  160 
Goodson,  Mr.,  302 
Goodwood,  291 
Goodyer,  Gordon,  192 
Gordon  League  Sunday  Evenings,  134 
Gorleston  Church,  story  of  contirmation 

at,  98 
Gorleston,  Vicar  of,  see  Phillips,  Rev. 
Forbes 


126 


INDEX 


Greeha  CasUe,  Isle  of  Man,  62 

Green,  J.  R.,  251 

Grenandcr,  Mrs.,  168 

Grindelwald,  166,  169 

Grossmith,  George  (sen.  and  jun.),  60, 

192 
Grosvenor,  Iluj^h  (Lord  Stalbridge)  — 

Racing  stories,  291,  292,  293,  294 
Gull,  Sir  William,  135 

HaiI'A,  Palestine,  219 

Hall  Caine,  62,  165 

Hallam,  Basil,  192 

Harcourl,  Lady,  62 

Harcourt,  Sir  William,  61,  131 

Hardinge,  Lord  and  Lady,  238 

Hare,  Augustus  J.  C,  42,  45 

Havre,  118 

Haweis,  Rev.  H.  R.,  41,  42,  46 

As  host,  43 

Father  Ignatius  and,  81,  82 
Haweis,  Mrs.,  46 

Funeral,  46 
Hawks,  21,  222 
Hawtrey,  Charles,  192 
Hayter,  Lady,  entertainment,  130 
Headmasters,  125 
Helmore,  Arthur,  132,  192 
Hemel  Hempstead,  garden-party,  129 
Herbert,  George,  86  ' 

Herkomer,      Herbert,      "The       Last 

Muster,"    130 
Hess  trial,  150 
Hicks,  Seymour,  192 
Hill,  Harrison,  192 
Himalayas,  foothills,  236 
Himalayas,  forest  officer  in,  230 
Hindoos,  228 
Hoey,  Iris,  192 
Hollingshead,  John,  297 
HoUins,  Mrs.,  56,  57,  58 
Ilolloway  Prison,  158,  160 
Hong  Kong,  262 
Hoopoos,  264 
Horner,  Cicely,  319 
Hughes,  Hugh  Price,  209 
Hughes,     Owen,    conjurer,    215,    216 

se'(/.,   225,   245,    265 
Humour,  Mark  Twain  on,  44 
Huxley,  Professor,  318 
Hyderabad,  247 

.Mosques,  250 

Women,  249 
Hyderabad,  IS'izam  of,  247,  249,  252 
Hyeres,  165 

/d/ei;  296 

Ignatius,  Father,  29 

At  Llanthony  .\blioy,  83 
Roman  Order  of  St.  Benedict,  80 
Sermon  and  method,  81  sg^. 

Illustrated     SportiiiL^    and     Dramatic 
News — 
Sketch  of  entertainment,  53 


Imagination,  value  of,  160 
Imperial  Rifle  Club,  314 
India- 
Author's  tour  in,  220  seq. 

British  oHicials,  240,  251 

British  rule  in,  227  seq. 

Bungalow  and  compound,  263 

Colouring  of  streets,  248,  249 

English  women  in,  240,  258,  259 

Missionaries,  261,  262 

Native  audiences,  123 

Native  servants,  231 

Native  women,  248,  249 

Police  and  author,  242 

Sport  in,  239 

Station  clubs,  232 
Irving,  Sir  Henry,  21,  134,  2S6,  297 
Isle  of  Man,  216 
Italy,  author's  tour  m,  190 

Jackdaws,  20,  21 

Jacobs,  318 

Japan,  American  Missionaries  in,  262 

Jays,  20,  21 

Jefferson,  Joseph,  21 

Jellicoe,  Charles,  20 

Jellicoe,  Sir  John,  19 

Jerome,  Jerome  K.,  296 

Jerusalem,  first  glimpse  of,  256 

Jesuit  colleges,  British,  204 

Jesuit  priests,  204 

Jhansi  Club  performance,  242 

John  Bull,  146 

Jones,  Sir  Alfred,  166 

Joy,  Mr.,  46 

Jupp,  Dr.  A.  E.,  278 

Kaiser,  "  Attila  tiie  Hun,"  172 

Kalka,  236 

Kandy,  performance  at,  123 

Keir  Hardie,  232 

Keir  Hardie,  and  coolies,  229 

Kellic,  Lawrence,  192 

Kempton  Park  races,  69,  291,  302 

Kingsbridge,  15 

Kingsley,  Charles,  86 

Kipling,  Rudyard,  237,  318 

"  Plain  Tales  from  the  Hills,'"  239 
Kitchener,  Lord,  314 
Kitchener's  Army  on  Salisbury  Plain, 

136 
Kites,  220,  222,  264 
Knight,  Joe,  94 
Knight- Bruce,  Bishop  of  Mashonalaiid, 

story  of,  85 
Knollys,  Charlotte,  52 
Kuala  Lam  pur,  265  seq. 

La  Lanterfie,  1 1 5 
Labouchere,  Henry,  119 

Challenge  to  Bishop,  136,  137 
Lahore,  223 
Langattock,  I^ord,  63 

Entertainment,  62 


INDEX 


Langtry,  Mrs.,  318 

Laud,  Archbishop,  86 

Lecture  Agency,  138 

Lenzerheid,  i6g 

Lesley,  Rev.  Charles,  farewell  sermon, 

Levity,  Spirit  of,  49 
Lewis,  Sir  George,  II9 
Licensing  Bill,  186  se(j. 
Lind,  Letty,  192 
Liverpool,  216 
Llanthony  Abbey,  83 
Lloyd  George,  141,  142 

On  organization,  104 
Lodge,  Sir  Oliver,  64 
Loftus,  Cecilia,  192 
Lohr,  Marie,  141 
Lomer,  Alderman,  35 
London — 

Author's    first    appearance     at     St. 
James's  Mall,  37  seq.,  41  sei/.,  47 

Arundel  Club,  297,  298 
Story  of  bird,  299 

Green  Room  Club  entertainment,  128 

Red  Lamp  Coffee  Rooms  entertain- 
ment, 127 

Society,  319 
I>ondon  Film  Company,  278 
Longford,   Earl  of,   letter  in    IVindsor 

and  Eton  Express,  181,  182 
Longrove,  Town  Clerk  of  Windsor,  188 
Lonsdale,  Lady  Gladys  (Lady  Ripon), 

318 
Louise,  H.R.H.  Princess,  134 
Louise,  Princess  (Duchess  of  Fife),  49 
Lowther,  Claude,  141,  143,  145 
Lubbock,  Sir  John  (Lord  Avebury),  237 
Lucknow,  263 
Lucknow  Club,  243 
Lunatic  Asylums,  entertainments,  127 
Lunn,  Sir  Henry,  165 

Sketch  of,  166 
Luther,  Martin,  42 
Lygon,  Hon.  Mary,  63 
Lyne,  Rev.    Arthur    L.,  see    Ignatius, 

Father 
Lytton,  Lord,  165 
Lyveden,  Lord,  165,  167 

Macaulay,  Lord,  educational  system, 

254 
Macdonald,  Ramsay,  205,  232 
Mackenzie,  Sir  Morell,  42,  135 
Macpherson,  Misses,  go  seij. 
Macquoid,  Percy,  156 
Madrassis,  228 
Magic  Circle,  215 
Magic,  Mysteries  of,  66. 

See  also  Occult  and  Spiritualism 
Magpies,  20,  21 
Maharajah  of  Mysore,  226 
Malay  States  :  Kuala  Lumpur,  263  se(/. 
Mango  trick,  225,  263 
Manning,  Cardinal,  18,  206,  318 


258 


Mar,  Helen,  192 

Margaret  of  Connaught  (Crown  Prince. 

of  Sweden),  55, 58  ::: 

Margaret  of  Denmark,  Princess,  213 
Maria,   Marchioness  of  Ailesbury,  49, 

52,  54 
Marias,  M.,  42 
"Mark  Twain,"  42,  43 

On  humour,  44 
Marlborough  House,  47,  4S  se(/. 

Tea-party,  53 
Marmont,  X'ictor,  192 
Marochetti,  "  Angel  of  Peace,' 
Marryat,  Captain,  129 
Marryat,  Florence,  42,  129 
Mary,  Queen  (Duchess  of  V'ork),62,  63 
Maskelyne,  mechanical  explanations,  66 
Masters  and  employees,  22 
Materialisation  of  the  spiritual,  65 
Mathews,  Charles,  21 
Maud,  Queen  of  Norway,  49 
Maurice,  Frederick  Denison,  86 
Maurice  of  Battenberg,  Prince,  61 
Maxwell,  M.  B.,  68 
Mayne,  Clarice,  192 
Mechanism  and  mentality,  73 
Mendelssohn,  65,  121 
Mentone,  165 
Merritt,  Paul,  12S 
Mesmerism,  71 

Meyer,  M.  and  Mme.,  115,  116 
Millais,  Sir  John,  21 
Millett,  Maude,  192 
Mine  Sweepers,  100 
Missionaries,  Anglican  and  Dissenters, 

261,  262 
Missionaries  as  Empire  builders,  144 
Missions,  143,  260,  261 
Mohammedans,  228,  254 
Mohur-tree,  263 

Monmouth,     "  The     Hendre,"    enter- 
tainment; at ,  62 
Montana,  169 
Moody  and  Sankey,  29 
Moore,  Decima,  192 
Moore,  Ena,  192 
Morny,  Due  de,  113 
Mount,  Wilfred,  319 
Mozart,  65 

Ghost  of,  67 
Mukerjee,  Justice,  Biography  of,  254 
Mumtaza  Mahal,  mausoleum,  256  se(/. 
Murger,  Henri,  154 
Music,  65 
Mynahs,  222 

Mysticism.  See  Occult  and  Spiritualism 
Mystics,  genuine  and  quack,  72 

Nachez,  Tivadar,  192 
Nansen,  on  Gerald  Christy,  138 
National  Anthems,  199,  200,  277 
Natives,  Christianized,  261 
Nazareth,  219 
Neem-tree,  26^ 


328 


INDEX 


Neruda,  Mme.  Norman,  134 

New  Forest,  20,  21 

Newbould,  Messrs.,  278 

Newgale,  author's  visit  to,  287 

Newman,  Cardinal,  214 

Niagara,  256 

Nice,  165 

Norton,  Lord,  77 

Norwich,  Bish(jp  of,  at  Gorleston,  9S 

Nugent,  Claude,  125 

Occult,  the,  64  sei/. 

Fascination  ol",  65 

Study  of,  72 

See  also  Spiritualism 
Ootacamund,  244 
Opp,  Julie  (Mrs.  Faversham),  155 
O'Rell,  Max,  192 
"  Ouida,"— 

"  Chandos,"  152,  153 

"  Strathmore,"  152,  153 

"  Under  Two  Flags,"  152,  153 
Owen,  Jacob,  18 
Oxford  Colleges,  128 

Magdalen  Colleges,  124 

Smoking  Concerts,  125 

Pack,  Dr.  Byrd,  192 

Paget,  Mrs.  Gerald,  318 

Palace  Theatre,  audience,  74 

Palmistry,  70 

Panama  Canal  Machinery,  73 

Pankhurst,  Mrs.,  sketch  of,  \o\  sc^. 

Parakeets,  222,  264 

Paris — ; 

Author  visits,  \o^seq. 

Hotel    Continental,    entertainments, 
loS,    112  seq.,   117 

Tuileries,  exhibition  in,  120 
Parker,  Dr.  Joseph — 

Sermons,  200,  201,  202 

Sketch  of,  \qj  sf(/. 
Parker,  L.  N.,  Dover  Pageant,  283 
Parker,  Mrs.,  201 
Parrots,  222 
Parsees,  221 

Parsons,  Mrs.   Alan,  140 
Partridge,   Pellina  Maud  (Mrs.  Alfred 

Capper),  322 
PaschkofI,  Princess.  114 
I'athans,  221,  228,  254 
Patricia  of  Connaught,  Princess,  55,  58 
Payne,  George,  31S 
Pease  family,  17 
Peckham,  20,  21 
Pelissier,  II.  G.,  192 
Penang, 265,  272 

Chine.se  temples,  273 

Tanjong  Bunga,  273 
Penzance,  15 

People's  Palace  audiences,  122,  123 
Perkins,  Sir  F.,  35 
Perowne,  Bishop,  165 
Perrin,  M.,  1 14 


Perrin,  Rev.  W.  W.,  24 

Peshawur,  255 

Peter  the  Hermit,  210 

Phelps,  21 

Phillipps,  Sir  Owen,  166 

Phillips,  Rev.  F'orhes — 

Ideal  of  real  Bishop,  loi 

On  High  and  Low  Church,  99 

Sketch  of,  93 

Stories,  94,  96,  97 

Work  among  Mine  Sweepers,  100 
Phillips,  Stephen,  "Faust,"  141 
Pitt,  William,  Anecdotes,  266  seq. 
Plymouth,  15,  80 
Point  of  view,  9 

Modern    Londoner    and    his   great- 
grandfather, 73 
Poona,  220. 242 
Port  Said,  256 
Portsmouth,  2S9 

J'ortugal,  King  and  Queen  of,  211,  213 
Pounds,  Courtice,  129 
Preaching,  208  seq. 
Primrose  League  entertainments,  130 
Prince  of  Wales,  see  Edward  VII 
Princess    of     Wales,     see    Alexandra, 

Queen. 
Professionals,  treatment  of,  60 
Prynne,  Mrs.,  80 
Prynne,  Rev.  G.  R.,  80 
Public    Schools    Alpine    Sports   Club 

prizes,  167 
Punch  on  Father  Ignatius,  80 
Putney,  performance  at,  132 
i'yramids,  256 

Quakers,  17 

Radnor,  Lady  (Lady  Folkestone),  52 
Radstock,  Lord,  29 
Rafllcs,  Sir  Stamford,  275 
Rajputs,  22S,  254 

Randall  Davidson,  Archbi.shop,  176,  178 
Rasendyl,  Rudolph,  281,282,283 
Ravens,  222 
Reay,  Lord,  59 

Recruiting,   women  and,  104,  105 
Red  Sea,  220 
Rediuth,  15 
Ricardo,  Colonel,  131 
Richepin,  M.,  no,  in,  116 
Ripon,  Marquis  of,  59 
Riviera  entertainments,  164,  165 
Roberts,  Arthur,  192 
Robertson,  Frederick  W. ,  86 
Robertson,  Herbert,  150 
Robins,     Rev.     Arthur,     ilie    .Soldiers' 
Bishop — 

Clewer  Sisters  and,  181  seq. 

Sketch  of,  171  seq. 

Siories,  174,  175- .176,  177 

Windsor  Corporation  and,  178 
Rock  Temples  of  Ipoh,  274 
Roman  Catholic  priests,  77 


INDEX 


329 


Romance  and  Science,  74 
Rome,  St.  Peter's,  256 
Romilly,  Lord  and  Lady,  134 
Rope  trick,  225 
Rose  &  Co.,  220 
Rosebery,  Countess  of,  49 
Rosebery,  Lord,  Ladas,  293 
Rosslyn,  Lord,  192 
Rous,  Admiral,  318 
Rufus  Stone,  20 
Rumford,  Kennerley,  132,  133 
Ruskin,  John,  21 
Russell  of  Killowen,  Lord,  297 
Ruthven,  Master  of,  55 
Rutland,  Duchess  of,  319 
Ryland,    Councillor,    challenge,     191, 
193'   195.   196 

Sag  AN,  Prince  de,  120 

St.  Francis  of  Assisi,   173 

St.  John,  Florence,  42 

St.  Paul's,   Knightsbridge,  tablet  in,  17 

Saint-Saens, ' '  Samson  and  Delilah,  "318 

Sala,  G.  A.,  297 

Salisbury,  295,  297 

Salisbury  Plain  entertainment,  135 

Salon  dak  bungalow,  236 

San  Francisco,  14 

Sandhurst  College,  124,  128 

Sargent,  sketch  of  Viola  Tree,  140 

Savonarola,  206,  210 

Schoolmasters  in  Switzerland,  169 

Science  and  other-world  existence,  65 

^lence  and  romance,  74 

Scott,  Corporal- Major,  180 

Scott-Gatty,  Sir  Alfred,  134 

Stories,  310 
Scott  Holland,  Canon,  203 
Secunderabad  Camp,  253 
Shah  Jehan,  230,  256 
Shanghai,  262 
Shapcott,  Miss,  19 
Shaw,  George  Bernard,  154,  318 

"  Pygmalion,"  87 
Shultleworth,  Henry  Carey,  85 

Speech,  86 
Siam,  Princes  of,  55 
Siberia,  219 
Sievier,  Bob,  79 
Sikhs,  228,  254 
Simla — 

Amateur  Dramatic  Theatre,  238 

Annandale,  239 

Jakko,  238 

Tonga  ride  to,  236 
Simmons,  costumier,  157 
Simpson,  Palgrave,  297 
Singapore,  265 
Skating  in  Switzerland,  168 
Slate-writing  manifestations,  66,  67,  68 
Smith,  Etherington,  132 
Smyth,  Dr.  Ethel,  57 
Smyth,  General  J.  H.,  56 
Soldiers,  characteristics,  226,  227 


Somerville,  Reginald,  192 

Sothern,  21 

Southampton,  15,  17,  20,    n8 

Royal  Hotel,  30,  34,  35 
Southern  Cross,  220 
Spencer,  Herbert,  318 
Spirit,  mysteries  of,  75 
Spiritualism — • 

Influence  of,  66,  72 

Science,  67 

Set  also  Occult 
Spiritualists,  14,  23 

Meeting,  45 

Sham,  64,  66,  72,  159,  211,  286 
Sport  in  India,  239 
Spurgeon,  C.  H.,  29 
Stanley,  Dean,  318 
Stanton,  Father — 

On  Joseph  Parker,  203 

Story  of,  87,  89 
Star,  on  the  Derby,  293 
Stead,  W.  T.,  166 
Stevenson,  R.  L. ,  quoted,  320 
Stone  Age,  144 
Stonyhurst  College,  204 
Straight,    Douglas,  Chief  of  Lucknow 

Police,  243 
Studholme,  Marie,  192 
Suckling,  Mr.,  191 
Suffield,  Lord,  52,   113 
Suffrage  Question,  lOi  seq. 
Sullivan,  Barry,  297 
Sullivan,  Sir  Arthur,  121 

"  Lost  Chord,"  173 
Sunday  entertainments,  133 
Sunday  Pictorial,  146,  147 
Superstition,  66 
Sutherland,  Sir  Thomas,  166 
Swettenham,    Sir    Alexander   and    Sir 

Frank,   275 
Switzerland,  entertainments,   164,  165, 
167 

Winter  sports,  165,  167  seq. 
Syersh,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Edgar,  168 
Sykes,  Christopher,  49,  51,  113 

Taj  Mahal,  256  seq.,  263 
Taylor-Smith,  Bishop,  305 
Telegraphy,  system  of,  74 
Telephony,  system  of,  74 
Temple,  Archbishop,  story  of,  176 
Tennant,  Margot,  192,  319 
Tennent,  Harry,  125 
Tennyson,  Alfred,  Lord,  21,  318 
Terriss,  Ellaline,  192 
Terry,  Ellen,  129,  134 
Theatres,  question  of  closing,  212 
Theosophists,  219 

Thought- reader  and  audiences,  121  seq. 
Thought-reading — 

Fascination  of,  38 

Q,\'i\.oi,qiseq.,\lseq.,  23,  71,  1 17,  321 

Impression  of,  241 
Tiberias,  Lake  of,  219 


JJ" 


INDEX 


Tit-Bi/%,  318 

Togo,  Admiral,  274 

Toole,  J.  L.,  128,  297 

Tower,  Rev.  Henry,  187,  190,  131,  196 

Trafalgar,  battle  of,  73 

Traflbrd,  H.  R. ,  322 

Tree,  Beerbohm,  128 

Tree,  Lady,  192 

Tree,  Sir  Herbert,  94 

On  Missions,  143 

Sketch  of,  139  se(j. 

Story  of  Japanese  play,  142 

Supper-parties,  139 
Tree,  Viola  (Mrs.  Parsons),  140,  319 
Trevor,  Harry,  192 
Trevor,  Leo,  192 
Trimulgherry  Camp,  253 
Trollope,  Anthony,  21,  36 

Clerics,  76 
Truro,  15 
Truth  on  Author's  reception  in  Paris, 

112  set/.,  118 
Truthfulness,  story  of,  310 
Tuticorin,  255 

University  Boat  Race,  298 
Upton,  Fred,  132,  192 

Vanbrugh,  Violet,  192 
Varley,  Henry,  29 
Vaughan,  Archbishop,  205 
Vaughan,  Dean,  84 
Vaughan,  P'ather  Bernard,  205 

On  preaching,  208  seq. 

Sketch  of,  206,  214 
Vaughan,  Herbert,  207 
Vaughan,  John,  207 
Vaughan,  Roger,  207 
Venne,  Lottie,  192 
Vermont  funeral,  story  of,  44 
Vezi,  Hermann,  192 
Victor,  Edward,  192 
Victoria,  Princess,  49 
Victoria,  Queen,  61 

Death,  199 
Victorian  dining-room,  154,  156 
Vixen,  definition  of,  97 
Von  Tirpitz,  19 
Vultures,  222 

W.S.P.U.  organization,  102,  104 

Wadham,  Percy,  192 

Wagner,  121 

Waifs  and  Strays.entertainments,  1 635^1/. 

Wakefield,  Russell,  Bishop  of  Bir- 
mingham, 164 

Walsh,  Lady  Clementine,  63 

Wantage,  57 

War  Office,  red-tape,  102 

Ward,  Dudley,  132 

Ward,  Mrs.  Humphry,  "Delia  Blanch- 
flower,"  105 

Warminster,  295,  297 


Warner,  Charles,  128 
Warner,  Vernon,  192 
Warre,  Dr.,  291,  292 
Washington,  George,  310 
Waterloo,  Battle  of,  73 
Watson,  Alexander,  243 
Webb  Peploe,  Rev.,  86 
Weir,  Harrison,  297 
Wellington  College,  124 
Wells, '3 1 8 

Westminster,  Duke  of,  291,  292 
Wheeler,  James,  275 
White,  Arnold,  134,  141,  142 
Wilberforce,  Archdeacon  Basil,  25,  26 
sec].,  137,  147,  290 

Blue  Ribbon  Movement,  29  se(j. 

Characteristics,  26,  27,  29,  31,  36 

Letter  to  Author,  54 

Work  in  Southampton,  26  sei/. 
Wilberforce,  Mrs.  Basil,  30,  32 
Wilberforce,  Ernest,   Bishop  of  New- 
castle, 28, 290 
Wilberforce,  Samuel,  Bishop  of  Oxford 

and  Winchester,  26 
Wilde,  Oscar,  42,  68,  215 
Wilkinson,  Bishop  of  Truro,  32 
Williams  (burglar),  300 
Windsor,  290 — 

Cavalry  barracks,  128 

Chaplain  to  Household  troops,  1 7 1  sfq. 

Corporation  and  Rev.  A.  Robins,  178 

Holy    Trinity    Rectory,    Christmas 
Eve  at,  179 

Meeting  against  Licensing  Bill,  186 
seij. 

Theatre:  "God  Save   the   Queen" 
in,  199 

Town  Council,  185,  191 

Town  Hall,  190;  Entertainments,  192 
IVindsor  and  Eton  Express,  letters  in, 
181,  182,  193 

Speech  by  Ryland,  191 
Windsor  Castle,  61,  123 

Entertainment  at,  61,  62 
Windt,  Harry  de,  stories,  316,  317 
Winnington,      Ingram,       Bishop      of 
London,  125 

Good  Friday  Services,  305 

Stories,  126 
Wireless,  Marvels  of,  74 
Wolsey,  Cardinal,  173 
Women  and  recruiting,  104,  105 
Women  Signallers  Territorial  Corps,  313 
Women  travellers,  217,  218 
Wontner,  Messrs.,  119 
Woodin,  Rev.  S.,  54 
Wren  Sir  Christopher,  190 
Wyndham,  Sir  Charles,  2i,  137 

Y.M.C.A.  entertainments,  15 
Yarmouth,  Isle  of  Wight,  54 
Yokohama,  262 
Yorke,  Mrs.  Eliot,  31 


UNWIN    bROlHKKS,   LJldlTEU,  THE  GKEbHAM   I'KIiSS,   WOKING   AND  LON1>0.\ 


Maurice  Maeterlinck 

By   MACDONALD    CLARK 

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his  work." — Standard. 

"  This  timely  appreciation  .  .  .  tells  us  all  we  could  wish  to 
know  about  his  work,  his  outlook,  and  his  personality." 

Cambridge  Magazine. 


Sicilian  Studies 

By  the  Hon.  ALEXANDER   NELSON  HOOD 

(Dulce  of  Bronte) 
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— The  Bystander. 

"  Most  enchanting  chapters  tell  of  the  beauty  of  the  island.  It  is 
a  delightful  book  from  beginning  to  end." — Tatter. 


Nights  in  Town 

A   London   Autobiography 

By  THOMAS   BURKE 
Dei//y  Sv9.  js.  6d.  net. 

"Its  pictures  are  vivid  and  clean  cut,  its  wit  is  genuine,  and  its 
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literature." — Land  and  Water. 

"  A  good,  vigorous,  picturesque,  book  of  London  glimpses  and 
memories." — Referee. 

"A  very  wonderful  and  weird  book." — Daily  Sftctch. 

"  His  flashlight  pictures  are  packed  with  London's  beauty  and 
mystery." — Daily  News. 

LONDON:   GEORGE   ALLEN   &    UNWIN   LIMITED 


The   Secret  of  Human 
Power 

By    HAYDN     BROWN 

Fellow  of  the  Royal  Society  of  Medicine,    etc. 

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A  record,  kept  in  journal  fashion,  of  days  spent  in  the  open 
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'.'Like  the  good  diarist  she  i>^,  she  writes  charmingly  about 
trifling  things,  and  sanely  about  serious  ones." — Sunday  Times. 

"  What  gives  this  book  its  character  is  the  fact  that  its  author  is 
clearly  a  cultivated  woman  who  enjoys  good  reading." — Scotsman. 

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By  annettp:  m.  b.  meakin 

Author  of  "  A  Ribbon  of  Iron,"  etc. 
Crown  Zi'o.     Illustrated.      Popular  Edition.  3/.  6d.  net. 

Two  years  spent  among  Mohammed.ms  in  Morocco,  added  to 
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LONDON  :    GEOKGH    ALLEN    AND    UNWIN   LIMITED 


University  Of  California.  La " 
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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


ilBW^-^kJIkWABf 


f 


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1996 


Form  L0-32m-8,'58(5876s4)444 


PN 


Capper  - 


2598   Rambler's 
C17A2  recollections 


and  reflections 


University  Of  California,  Los  Angeles 


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